FHE 


f  ik 


WHITE  CIRCLE 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


the  Caw  of  ibe  CUbite  Circle. 


"She  would  be  burned  at  the  stake  if  they  discovered 
her!  "  he  muttered. 


THE  LAW  OF  THE 
WHITE  CIRCLE 


'By 

THORNWELL  JACOBS 

Author  of  ' '  Sinful  Sadday, "  ' '  The  Shadow 
ofAttacoa" 


With  Illustrations  by 

GILBERT  GAUL,  N.A. 


NASHVILLE 

TAYLOR-TROTWOOD  PUBLISHING  Co. 

1908 


COPYBIGHTED,    1908, 
BY 

TAYLOR-TEOTWOOD  PUBLISHING  Co. 


DEDICATION. 

To  my  dear  old  father,  who  could  have 
written  it  so  much  better  than  I  have 
done,  who  will  see  some  good  in  it,  al 
though  the  whole  world  scoffs,  this  story 
is  dedicated. 


TO  THE  READER. 
There  are  probably  very  few  people 
of  good  sense  who  would  care  to  write 
a  story  of  race  conflict  and  riot.  For 
myself  it  has  not  been  a  pleasure,  but 
a  duty.  It  has  seemed  to  many  of  us 
that  those  novelists  who  have  chosen 
the  subject  have  spent  too  large  a  part 
of  their  time  in  expostulations  concern 
ing  negro  inferiority,  and  too  little  in 
arraignment  of  our  white  lepers  who 
have  converted  a  disaster  into  dyna 
mite.  The  object  of  this  book  is  not  to 
call  the  negro  a  "  black  brute  "  and  the 
Aryan  a  "  white  angel,"  but  to  give  a 
fair  interpretation  of  those  tremendous 
agencies  which  are  making  our  national 
race  problem  a  pall  or  a  powder  mine, 

9 


To  THE  READER. 

as  Providence  may  determine.  THE 
LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE  is  a  socio 
logical  study,  not  a  "  problem  novel ;  " 
and  if  read  in  a  spirit  of  thoughtful 
fairness,  perhaps  an  excuse  may  be 
found  for  its  existence.  It  is  not  in 
tended  to  please  nor  to  dazzle,  but  to 
make  its  readers  think — perhaps  to  help 
them  understand  "  THE  END." 

Nashville,  Tenn.,  October  1,  1908. 
10 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 
Son  of  the  South  Mountains 15 

CHAPTER  II. 
"  The  End  "  29 

CHAPTER  III. 
A  Muddy-Footed  Fairy 41 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Beginning  of  the  End 67 

CHAPTEB  V. 
A  Window  in  Atlanta 79 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Dentist's  Doorway 95 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Also  a  Teuton? Ill 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Another  Journalist  Arrives 125 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Problem  from  a  Tonneau 137 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Pack  Forms. . .  .149 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Lair 161 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Riot 175 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Jungle  Justice 189 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Spirit  of  the  Old  South 201 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  King's  Highway 213 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Law  of  the  Camp  Fire. : 231 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Law  of  the  White  Circle 241 

12 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  She  would  be  burned  at  the  stake  if  they 
discovered  her!"  he  muttered Frontispiece 

"  He  stepped  upon  the  broad  back  of  the 
negro  man  and  beckoned  for  silence". .  .Inset 


CHAPTER  I. 
SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
SON  OF  THE  SOUTH   MOUNTAINS. 

The  Wa-haws  were  called  the  "  South 
Mountains "  before  the  days  of  Roy 
Keough.  Roy  changed  many  things 
about  Dunvegan — among  others,  a  tra 
dition  or  two — and  had  a  way  of  giving 
a  purplish  hue  to  things.  After  he  had 
come  and  gone,  men  described  him  as  a 
"  see-er,"  and  stated  that  his  whole  rep 
utation  came  from  his  ability  to  look  past 
the  phenomena  into  the  soul  of  persons 
and  events ;  but  while  he  was  in  Dunve 
gan  he  was  only  a  "  son  of  the  South 
Mountains." 

"  Kee-o "  his  father  had  always 
thought  was  the  way  to  spell  the  family 
name  until  Colonel  Russell,  who  had 

17 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

bought  the  Dunvegan  Democrat  from 
the  Preston  heirs,  mentioned  "  the  big 
red  apples  that  grew  in  the  South  Moun 
tains.  It  is  a  shame  that  such  a  coun 
try  should  be  the  home  of  heathen. 
They  say  that  the  Keoughs  and  Craw- 
fords  have  not  been  to  church  for  five 
years." 

Roy  Keough,  Sr.,  to  whom  this  was 
read,  took  all  print  as  complimentary, 
and  resolved  to  win  further  distinction. 
The  article  was  an  item  in  the  darkened 
boyhood  of  his  child. 

A  little  log  hut  the  size  of  a  small 
room,  chinked  with  mud;  one  fireplace 
(the  kitchen)  ;  one  bed,  with  knotted 
ropes  for  springs;  one  room;  a  chromo 
of  a  boxing  match  on  the  walls;  a  nest 
where  the  pet  hen  laid  her  eggs  in  the 
corner ;  a  rat  trap  under  the  bed ;  some 

18 


SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 

old  trousers  half  filling  the  broken  win- 
dowpane;  rude  boxes  for  chairs  and 
hard  dirt  for  a  floor — such  was  Roy 
Keough's  birthplace. 

But  there  was  a  big  apple  tree  less 
than  three  feet  from  the  front  door, 
with  flowers  as  pink  and  white  as  Colo 
nel  Russell's,  and  a  mocking  bird  sang 
nightly  in  the  white  pine  near  the 
spring.  Having  so  little  else  pleasant 
to  look  upon,  the  South  Mountain  lad 
saw  the  humming  bird  weave  her  soft, 
warm  nest,  and  at  three  years  of  age 
loved  the  wood  thrush  as  many  men  love 
a  dollar.  The  woods  were  wide  and 
unneighbored,  and  fish  were  in  the 
streams,  and  songs  in  the  sweet-shrub 
scented  air.  He  listened  to  voices  that 
many  die  not  having  heard,  and  saw 
what  the  multitude,  living,  never  see. 

19 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

True  to  his  traditions,  he  grew  up  hav 
ing  no  enemies  save  a  revenue  officer, 
and  no  contempt  save  for  the  neighbor 
who  had  bought  a  stove  like  the  town 
folks.  Shut  in  by  the  silent,  sleepy 
mountains,  Dunvegan  (twelve  miles) 
was  far  beyond  heaven,  and  even  ten- 
housed  Glen  Alpine  was  "  town." 

To  sketch  the  visage  of  the  South 
Mountains  is  to  write  about  a  beautiful 
woman's  face,  to  try  to  say  something 
more  of  a  good  man,  to  attempt  to 
praise  a  pink-throated  lily ;  it  is  the  rude 
whisper  in  the  midst  of  the  symphony. 
A  beautiful  land,  with  all  the  witchery 
of  forests  and  meadows  and  silver-rib 
boned  streams — a  land  where  the  woods 
are  spirit  and  the  spirits  are  wood !  In 
a  cove  where  the  sweet-breathed  winds 

beat  in  upon  the  billowy  green  of  shrub 
20 


SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 

and  tree  the  Keough  cabin  was  hidden, 
betrayed  only  by  the  curling  blue  smoke 
from  the  mud-chinked  chimney.  Only 
the  elements  were  there — the  lightning 
one  day,  the  blue  daisy  the  next;  the 
white  snow  to  love  in  the  winter,  the 
pink-tongued  kalmia  to  kiss  all  summer 
long. 

Twelve  miles  away  was  Dunvegan, 
where  men  wore  "  biled  shirts "  and 
shiny  shoes  and  shaved  their  necks; 
proud  Dunvegan,  where  the  women  had 
no  warts  on  their  hands  nor  knew  how 
to  kill  hogs  nor  cut  their  own  fire  wood ; 
citified  Dunvegan,  where  were  fences 
before  the  houses  and  where  people 
planted  grass  in  their  front  yards! 
Even  as  a  child  Roy  heard  such  curious 
things.  Some  day  he  would  go  there 

for  himself  and   see.     It  would   seem 
21 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

strange  to  look  upon  two-story  houses 
and  Dr.  Wilf ong's  big  church  that  would 
hold  two  hundred  people  and  the  steam 
engine!  There  Roy's  imagination 
broke  its  wing. 

Yet  he  went  to  Dunvegan  and  found 
the  devilship  of  the  Democrat  as  nat 
urally  as  any  flea  finds  its  puppy.  Colo 
nel  Russell,  "  editor  and  proprietor," 
taught  him  his  "  cases;  "  and  when  he 
had  tarried  in  the  print  shop  until  his 
beard  was  almost  grown,  Dr.  Wilfong 
(whose  throne  was  in  the  little  red 
church  in  under  the  oaks)  declared  that 
he  was  destined  to  be  a  great  journalist, 
and  wrote  Henry  Webster,  who  owned 
the  Atlanta  Commonwealth  about  it. 

Because  the  Doctor  said  it,  Dunvegan 
became  too  small  for  Roy,  and  he  was 
called  to  the  literary  editorship  of  the 

22 


SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 

Commonwealth.  As  he  read  his  offer 
the  thought  flashed  over  him  that  he,  a 
son  of  the  South  Mountains,  might  go, 
and  come  back  to  Dunvegan  and  be 
known  among  them  as  a  gentleman. 
He  went  and  trusted  and  worked  and 
kept  on  seeing. 

The  thing  that  Roy  Keough  did  in  the 
great  metropolis  was  a  thing  to  do. 
There  have  been  those  who  held  high 
positions  worthily;  but  their  name  is 
not  legion  who  hold  lesser  ones  as  a  king 
would  wield  his  scepter.  Unloved  and 
fearfully  the  plebeian  son  of  the  South 
Mountains  arrived  at  the  notorious 
train  shed.  But  it  was  noticeable  that 
as  he  passed  out  into  the  street  he 
straightened  back  his  shoulders  and 
tilted  his  chin  to  go  forward;  and  the 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  say :  "  I  love 

23 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Atlanta."  Life  surged  about  him,  and 
he  looked  at  it,  saw  beauty  in  it,  and 
from  the  rude  jargon  of  noisy  street 
rumblings  he  drew  a  song.  It  was  a 
worthy  thing  in  him  that  he  called  it 
an  honor  to  be  allowed  to  enter  the  great 
city,  which  drew  dregs  and  genius  for 
a  radius  of  hundreds  of  miles.  From 
the  sooty  window  of  his  dingy  little  of 
fice  in  the  Commonwealth  Building  he 
looked  down  upon  the  struggling  thou 
sands.  It  was  as  meaningful  as  the 
song  of  the  mocker  at  midnight.  This 
language  that  all  things  spoke — the  con 
fusion  of  tongues  in  the  bickerings  of 
the  byways — it  was  his  part  to  under 
stand.  He  interpreted.  He  looked  at 
men  and  animals  and  things,  and  loved 
them.  He  thought  about  them.  His 
pen  knew  only  the  habit  of  writing 

24 


SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 

kindly  of  them.  The  street  happenings 
he  treated  tenderly,  using  invective  and 
ridicule  as  a  good  surgeon  would  use 
his  knife.  In  an  utter  abandon  of  love 
he  gave  away  his  heart  to  his  pen. 
Long  before  they  knew  his  face  on  the 
streets  half  the  populace  read  the  Com 
monwealth  with  scissors  in  hand.  The 
Wa-haws  became  as  well  known  as 
Stone  Mountain.  Other  people  learned 
to  interpret  the  deeds  of  men  as  a  lan 
guage,  watching  happenings  as  the 
dumb  watch  the  hands  of  one  who  would 
speak  with  them.  All  this  thing  did 
Roy  Keough  in  the  great  city  of  Atlanta, 
where  the  average  man  is  as  well  known 
as  a  leaf  in  the  forest. 

Nor  was  it  a  strange  thing  that  this 
son  of  the  South  Mountains,  who  began 
life  looking  for  beauty  in  a  village, 

25 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

should  have  found  Infinity  in  a  city. 
Unconsciously  others  took  him  by  the 
hand  and  joined  with  him  in  the  search. 
When  they  found  that  he  was  an  inter 
preter,  they  came  to  him  confused  by 
whisper  and  shouting.  He  became  At 
lanta's  week-day  pastor  of  the  thou 
sands  who  longed  for  an  interpretation 
of  things,  a  spiritualization  of  that 
which  they  saw  could  not  be  all  mate 
rial.  He  had  come  from  the  silences 
where  men  had  time  to  listen,  and  the 
habit  was  strong  upon  him.  In  the 
land  of  his  nativity  God  had  made  all 
things.  How  could  he  forget  it?  And 
this  great  city,  with  its  myriads  of  lights 
in  its  mountainlike  buildings,  with  its 
disquieted  multitudes  anxious  as  his 
native  lilies  were  never  anxious  for  to 
morrow,  with  its  unled  thousands  who 

26 


SON  OF  THE  SOUTH  MOUNTAINS. 

were  beginning  to  call  all  things  com 
mon — 0,  that  the  infinite  muteness  of 
the  Wa-haws  might  come  upon  them! 
Else  how  would  they  ever  know  the  ac 
cents  of  the  Voice? 

27 


CHAPTER  II. 
"  THE  END." 


CHAPTER  II. 

"THE  END." 

"  The  execution  is  almost  perfect ;  but 
it  is  not  the  execution  that  is  drawing 
the  crowds  to  admire  it,"  Henry  Web 
ster  remarked  to  his  young  protege. 

"  No?  "  the  journalist  queried. 

"  It  is  the  new  sociology,  the  sociology 
of  the  Third  Race,  depicted  on  the  can 
vas,  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  rather 
cleverly.  The  woman  is  unquestiona 
bly  a  genius,  and  beautiful,  very  beauti 
ful,  though  one  hesitates  to  say  it  in  At 
lanta,  where  the  'one  drop'  might  as  well 
be  a  bucketful.  Have  you  seen  her  ?  " 

"No,"  Roy  Keough  admitted,  with 
the  regret  of  a  reporter  who  has  missed 
a  "  beat." 

31 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Nor  the  painting?  Then  come  with 
me.  She  has  just  gone  away  with 
Kongo  Copelin,  one  of  my  professors, 
but  the  picture  is  still  here." 

The  two  men  sauntered  through  the 
crowds  who  had  come  to  attend  the 
closing  exercises  of  Webster  University, 
past  the  little  coteries  of  white  men  and 
women  who  would  smile  upon  the  com 
mencement  of  the  famous  negro  school, 
past  the  denser  collections  of  colored 
students,  until  they  stood  before  the 
painting  that  all  Atlanta  was  talking  of. 

"'The  End/"  Webster  murmured. 
"  Has  she  named  it  well,  Keough?  " 

The  painting  was  a  large  canvas, 
handsomely  framed  in  gilt.  It  por 
trayed  the  doorway  of  a  laborer,  a  white 
man,  who,  clad  still  in  the  clothing  of 
toil,  stood  by  the  side  of  his  wife,  with 

32 


"  THE  END." 

his  arm  resting  tenderly  upon  her  shoul 
der.  Into  the  face  of  this  wife  the 
artist  had  thrown  all  the  charm  of  ex 
quisite  beauty,  from  the  black,  curly 
locks  to  the  daintily  penciled  lips,  which 
seemed  too  pure  for  sensuous  touch. 
Her  dark  eyes  looked  fondly  upon  her 
husband,  beside  whom  she  stood  in  lis 
som  grace.  A  little  child,  fair  of  face, 
played  at  their  feet;  and  a  women — an 
octoroon,  perhaps — smiled  upon  the  trio 
from  the  shadows  of  the  doorway  as  if 
she  would  bless  her  daughter  and  her 
grandchild,  and  the  white  man  who  was 
not  ashamed  of  his  own.  Written  all 
over  the  canvas  was  the  heart  prophecy 
of  the  artist  as  plainly  as  in  the  name 
itself. 

" '  The    End/    What    say    you,    Ke- 
ough  ?    Has  she  named  it  well  ?  " 

33 
3 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  She  has  named  it  as  well  as  any 
dream  may  be  named/'  Keough  said, 
thoughtfully.  "The  only  thing  that 
bothers  me  is —  " 

V 

"  That  they  are  beginning  to  dream 
it?" 

"  No,  no !  Where  did  she  get  that 
face  from?" 

"  The  face  of  the  woman  in  the  pic 
ture?  " 

"  Yes.  It  seems  very  beautiful.  Is  it 
her  own  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  You  would  certainly  not 
know  one  from  having  seen  the  other. 
Perhaps  she  dreamed  it  for  her  child." 

"  Did  you  say  she  was  a  negress,  Mr. 
Webster?" 

"  The  daughter  of  an  octoroon,  I  under 
stand.  There  are  few  brighter  white 
men  in  the  city  than  her  father.  Can 

34 


"  THE  END." 

i 

you  keep  a  secret?  "  he  added,  in  a  whis 
per. 

"  Have  I  ever  betrayed  one?  " 
"  Lawson,  the  dentist." 
"  Dr.  Lawson?     Is  it  possible?  " 
"  Hush !     He     is     here.     There     he 
comes  now." 

The  two  men  stood  aside  while  Dr. 
Lawson  approached.  He  passed  quick 
ly,  merely  giving  the  painting  a  glance. 
He  was  a  tall,  strongly  built  man,  al 
ready  gray,  with  the  powers  which  had 
made  him  famous  very  plain  upon  him. 
Short  as  was  his  glance  at  the  painting, 
Roy  Keough  saw  in  it  something — a  new 
thing  which  he  had  not  heard  in  the 
silences  of  the  Wa-haws.  He  saw  that 
a  white  man  could  love  his  offspring 
whose  mother  was  an  octoroon ;  he  saw, 
also,  that  he  could  be  proud  of  her  work. 

35 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Dr.  Lawson !  "  he  exclaimed  again, 
softly,  when  the  celebrated  dentist  had 
passed. 

"  It  was  in  his  younger  and  wild-oat 
days,"  Webster  explained.  "  You  have 
heard  before  that  he  came  of  common 
stock." 

"  I  have,  indeed ;  but  I  did  not  know 
before  how  common  it  was.  I  should 
like  to  see  the  girl —  " 

"  You  can  easily  meet  her." 

"  Did  you  notice  that  I  said  '  see 
her  ?  '  "  Keough  corrected,  gently. 

"  By  the  way,  Roy,  she  is  to  marry 
one  of  my  professors,  a  comparatively 
negroid  fellow  from  the  black  belt — Dr. 
Kongo  Copelin." 

"Really?  I  am  more  interested  in  her 
art;  yet  it  seems  a  pity.  She  is  really 

36 


"  THE  END." 

a  white  girl,  as  most  of  your  students 
are,  Mr.  Webster." 

"  Do  you  know,  Keough,"  the  editor 
assented,  "  just  between  us,  when  I 
founded  this  college,  I  thought  it  was 
for  negroes.  Frankly,  I  have  since 
come  to  believe  that  there  are  no  ne 
groes  when  it  comes  to  education;  it  is 
for  the  Third  Race — for  those  who  are 
pushing  to  '  the  end/  ' 

They  stood  studying  the  painting 
thoughtfully. 

"  Shall  I  notice  it  in  the  Common 
wealth? "  Keough  asked,  slowly. 

"  Something  has  already  been  said 
about  it — too  much,  I  believe.  The 
Press  called  me  a  '  negrophile '  because 
one  of  our  reporters  described  the  artist 
as  one  of  Atlanta's  most  beautiful 
women.  But  apart  from  all  such  jokes, 

37 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Keough,  you  should  see  her.  I  am  as 
white  a  man  as  anybody,  and  yet  I  tell 
you  I  have  never  seen  so  beautiful  a 
woman,  except  once,  and  that  was  very 
long  ago." 

Keough  smiled  knowingly.  They 
both  remembered  that  face  in  Dunve- 
gan. 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  return  in  such 
case,"  Keough  suggested. 

"  No.  Well,  perhaps — perhaps  I  may 
before  the  evening  comes ;  but  let  us  re 
turn  to  the  Commonwealth  Building.  I 
have  some  editorials  to  write." 

They  walked' through  the  corridor  of 
the  main  building  on  out  upon  the  broad 
campus,  the  yellow  faces  of  the  students 
turning  to  gaze  upon  them  as  the  mag 
net  looks  toward  the  pole.  Henry  Web 
ster  was  in  more  than  one  sense  their 


"  THE  END." 

benefactor.  Out  of  his  abundant 
wealth  he  had  built  Webster  University 
for  them  and  aided  in  richly  endowing 
it.  Over  it  he  continued  to  preside  in 
a  sort  of  Jovian  way,  taking  scarcely 
less  interest  in  it  than  in  the  Common 
wealth,  the  great  Georgia  daily  of 
which  he  was  proprietor,  and  on  which 
Roy  Keough  was  the  most  popular  re 
porter.  It  was,  therefore,  a  matter  of 
interest  to  him  that  a  woman  of  such 
excellent  parts  as  this  Lola  Lawson 
Johnson  ("  Lola  L.,"  it  was  always 
signed)  should  have  graduated  at  his 
'school  and  have  stirred  Atlanta  with 
her  pretentious  attempt  at  painting  her 
dreams.  To  Roy  Keough  the  thing 
came  in  a  different  light.  He  was  ever 
the  interpreter.  This  was  a  new  phase 
of  a  very  deep  subject;  it  needed  to  be 

39 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

thought  about,  to  be  understood ;  yet  in 
stinctively  he  dismissed  it  from  his 
mind  long  before  he  reached  his  desk 
in  the  Commonwealth  Building.  If  the 
shadow  was  to  come  upon  him,  it  must 
at  least  await  the  bidding  of  Fate. 

40 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

"  So  you  think  that  at  least  I  am  but 
a  muddy-footed  fairy?  "  she  asked,  look 
ing  not  unkindly  at  him. 

"  But  a  fairy  ever,"  he  rejoined. 
"And  you  must  hear  the  defense  of  our 
people,  Lola;  simple  fairness  requires 
that." 

The  woman  was  indeed  beautiful; 
and  if  any  trace  of  the  negroid  clung 
to  her,  her  appearance  suggested  none 
of  it.  Lithesomely  built,  with  the  cer 
tain  movement  and  gentle  springiness 
of  health  and  the  grace  of  the  dance  and 
the  tennis  racket  upon  her,  she  stood 
facing  a  negro  under  the  shades  of  the 
great  water  oaks  of  Webster  University 

43 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

campus.  The  black  ringlets  of  her 
curls  would  not  be  bound  by  the  red  rib 
bon  band,  which,  after  all,  was  there 
only  to  compliment  them;  and  her  fea 
tures — there  was  a  certain  soft,  sym 
metrical  fullness  about  them  which  to 
all  men  would  seem  compelling.  Her 
nose  was  so  sensitively  shaped  that  it 
seemed  possessed  of  mind  and  heart. 
Kongo  Copelin  was  looking  down  into 
her  eyes  to  read  his  fortune  there — eyes 
which  seemed  able  to  hold  all  others  un 
til  they  were  done  with  them;  brown 
eyes,  whose  brightness  and  cleverness 
he  forgot  for  dreaming  the  dreams  he 
saw  in  them.  He  himself  was  not  an 
ill-looking  man,  had  his  skin  not  been 
of  an  ebony  blackness ;  for  his  features, 
like  those  of  the  better  African  tribes, 
were  as  regular  as  a  Caucasian's.  He 

44 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED   FAIRY. 

was  tall  and  strong  and  stalwart,  and 
his  college  training  had  made  an  ath 
lete  of  him,  who,  had  he  labored  upon 
the  farm,  would  have  been  known  as  a 
"  big  buck  nigger."  He  had  stretched 
out  his  hand  to  touch  her.  The  ineffa 
ble  line-bred  sadness  of  a  thousand 
years,  a  thousand  centuries,  was  in  his 
face  as  she  withdrew  from  him  with  a 
little  start.  Was  it  the  whiteness  in 
her  that  did  it?  She  was,  indeed,  a 
white  woman.  But  why  should  he  not? 
Was  not  one  of  the  nursery  stories  told 
of tenest  in  the  Hausa  that  of  how  the 
gorilla  and  the  orang-outang  would 
come  out  of  the  jungle  into  the  villages 
and  carry  away  the  women  to  their  tree 
homes  in  the  forest?  They  were 
strong.  So,  also,  he  was  strong. 
"  You  must  hear  my  defense,"  he  con- 

45 


THE  LAW  OP  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

tinued,  "  for  I  also  am  a  negro,  and  I 
know  them  for  their  worst.  Strong, 
smelly,  wild  animals  some  of  the  lowest 
of  us  seem,  half  tamed  and  subdued  by 
a  civilization  which  they  fear,  looking 
upon  it  as  the  first  wolf  looked  at  the 
fire  circle  of  the  men  to  whom  they 
came  in.  These  are  among  my  race, 
with  a  hundred  millenniums  of  forest 
shades  distilled  into  the  pigment  of 
their  skins.  Men  of  the  jungle,  they 
are  where  only  the  black  could  live,  for 
all  lighter  skins  furnished  targets  for 
preying  beasts  and  burning  sun.  They 
are  dazed  for  a  moment  by  the  light  of 
the  fire  circle.  But  wait;  they  will 
learn  to  understand —  " 

"  Possibly,  or  possibly  not ;  but  it  was 
not  of  that  I  was  thinking,"  she  inter 
rupted. 

46 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

"  If  I  were  unkind,"  he  continued, 
with  u  slight  show  of  feeling,  "  I  could 
say:  what  have  they  in  common  with 
these  insipidly  chalky-faced  people  who 
hunted  them  down  and  brought  them 
hither,  and  who  play  a  different  game 
entirely  from  that  which  their  people 
had  played  at  for  ages  in  the  Dark  Con 
tinent?  Do  I  wish  to  be  one  of  them? 
Yes,  and  No.  Yes,  as  a  man  would  be 
like  angels ;  no,  as  he  would  cry  out  for 
flesh  and  bone  again.  And  you,  Lola, 
your  face  is  white  and  your  cheeks  pink, 
yet  you  are  one  of  us." 

The  woman  paled  and  shuddered. 

"  *  One  of  them/  '  she  murmured. 
"  Listen,  Kongo!  What  would  you  do? 
If  not  one-tenth  part  of  your  blood  were 
negro,  and  that  part  not  of  an  ignoble 
strain;  if,  when  dissociated  from  ne- 

47 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

groes,  men  counted  you  white;  if  your 
training  and  ambitions  and  education 
all  identified  you  with  the  White  Circle, 
would  you  want  to  be  called  '  nigger? ' 
Would  you  allow  your  life  to  be  forced 
back  among  the  jungle  people?  " 

"  Yet,  already,"  he  replied,  sturdily, 
"  that  people  have  furnished  America 
with  poets  and  artists  and  educators 
and  done  half  the  heavy  work  of  the 
continent.  Could  the  white  child  of 
the  neolithic  age,  suddenly  transported 
into  the  twentieth  century,  have  done 
more?" 

"  Why  don't  you  go  on?  "  she  urged. 
"  Why  don't  you  call  them  '  types  '  and 
be  quit  of  it?  0,  how  sick  I  am  of  all 
this  silly  twaddle,  with  its  pictures  of 
octoroons  and  quadroons  handed  out  as 
negroes  by  magazines  that  never  can 

48 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

understand!  And  I,  in  whose  blood  is 
half  the  black  measure  of  an  octoroon — 
no  doubt  I  am  '  a  type  of  the  negro  stu 
dent  at  Webster  University.'  Have  I 
no  right  of  protest  against  being  classed 
with  the  black-fellows?  Have  you  no 
more  discrimination  than  these  Aryans 
show  in  attributing  to  the  jungle  peo 
ple  the  success  of  the  Third  Race? 
Would  you  also  reprobate  me  as  a  ne 
gro  because  there  is  '  one  drop  '  in  my 
veins?" 

She  paused  a  moment  in  the  avalanche 
of  her  words.  Once  a  famous  leader  of 
her  people  had  come  to  Atlanta  to 
speak  to  them.  Men  called  him  "  a  great 
man  " — white  men  did  so.  How  it  had 
fired  her  people's  imagination  to  think 
of  it !  By  sheer  force  of  superior  man 
hood  he  had  risen  until  he  was  called. 

49 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

by  a  white  rabbi,  "  the  greatest  Southern 
man,  save  Lee."  Such  a  man  had  come 
to  Atlanta,  whither  all  men  came,  to 
speak  to  her  people;  and  how  he  had 
stirred  them!  He  called  them  his  peo 
ple,  his  race,  his  kindred.  And  yet, 
even  then,  a  schoolgirl,  she  could  see  the 
pitiful  pathos  of  it  all,  for  they  were 
not  his  people.  Only  by  so  much  as  a 
muddied  foot  did  he  partake  of  their 
clay.  In  every  essential  thing  he  was  a 
white  man,  save  his  color,  and  even 
there  he  was  far  removed  from  the 
black  faces  he  called  "  brethren."  This 
was  the  pathos  of  his  life,  and  of  hers 
also.  He  might  lead  white  men,  wield 
white  men,  and  know  himself  superior 
to  white  men,  but  his  camp  fire  must 
be  a  separate  one;  she,  too,  had  some 
one  not  whispered  undreamed-of  things 

50 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

in  her  ears.  There  was  Dr.  Lawson, 
the  distinguished  dentist,  and  Laura 
Lawson,  his  daughter,  and  Lola  Law- 
son,  whom  few  could  distinguish  from 
her  full-white  sister.  Ah,  the  pathos  of 
the  '  one  drop ! ' 

"  I  could  not  accuse  you,"  he  said, 
slowly.  "  If  it  were  incumbent  upon 
me  to  arraign  any  one,  I  should  save 
all  my  scorn  for  the  white  betrayer  of 
your  mother.  It  is  no  accusation  to  me 
to  be  called  an  'African.' " 

Africa!  It  was  the  name  of  Hanni- 
baTs  city,  and  thence  of  the  giant  conti- 
tent  whose  size  was  greater  and  whose 
civilization  was  older  than  these  par 
venu  Americas.  More  than  half  a 
thousand  years  before  the  coming  of 
the  White  Christ  their  Northern  settle 
ments  had  circumnavigated  the  conti- 

51 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

nent,  and  in  the  valley  of  her  Nile 
black  and  white  and  brown  men  had 
intermingled  so  long  that  the  memory 
of  history  ran  not  to  the  contrary.  And 
Hausa-land,  his  patria!  When  Amer 
ica  was  being  discovered,  did  not  his 
grandparent  rule  almost  as  many  sub 
jects  as  there  were  people  in  the  United 
States  to-day? — his  grandparent,  whose 
will  was  done  from  the  Benue  to  the 
blue  Mediterranean;  whose  subjects 
were  happy,  civilized,  industrious,  and 
hospitable,  when  the  new-rich  continent 
was  a  howling  wilderness.  Yet  he — 
Kongo,  a  prince  of  the  Hausa  blood — 
was  accounted  by  these  Aryans  an  out 
cast,  a  pariah,  who  dared  not  enter  the 
circle  of  their  home  light  for  fear  of  a 
kick  and  a  curse. 

He  was  a  black-fellow,  with  an  edu- 

52 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

cation  and  a  gentleman's  soul;  and  this 
was  his  sociology. 

"  What  right  have  they,"  he  asked, 
as  if  it  contained  the  gist  of  the  whole 
matter,  "  to  reverence  Jehovah  and 
laugh  at  Unkulunkulu?  " 

"  The  odor  of  the  jungle,  the  smell  of 
the  undisturbed  mold,  and  the  touch  of 
green,  wet  things  still  clings  to  them," 
she  murmured. 

"  They  are  black-faced  sons  of  the 
equator — I  know  it  well,"  he  admitted 
— "  bred  to  color  in  the  shadowed  for 
ests.  They  fit  the  darkness  and  feel  for 
it  as  wrong  searches  for  midnight.  But 
will  white  men  never  learn  that  the 
black-fellow  will  not  think  the  world  in 
Aryan  categories,  that  they  will  forever 
refuse  to  play  the  games  the  white-fel 
lows  play  at?  And  why  should  they? 

68 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

You  will  have  to  take  sides,  Lola.  Be 
one  or  the  other  in  the  clash  of  inter 
ests." 

"  There  is  no  clash  of  interests." 

"  You  are  not  aware,  then,  of  the 
state  of  war  that  darkens  the  future  of 
both  races  and  asks :  '  Which  of  them 
shall  possess  the  land?  '  " 

"  I  know  of  but  one  race  of  people 
on  this  continent  who  shall  inherit  the 
earth,"  she  said,  significantly. 

"  You  mean  the  Aryans  ?  " 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Then  surely  not  the  negro?  " 

"  Nor  the  negro." 

"  Then  you  mean  your  Third  Race — 
potentially,  in  the  future." 

"  Exactly." 

"  But  where  is  that  wonderful  Third 

54 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

Race  ?  "  he  asked,  bitterly.  "  It  will  not 
be." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  she  added,  with 
prophecy  in  her  eyes.  "It  is  here ;  it 
is  I  and  my  kind,  and  our  name  is  *  Le 
gion!'" 

"  Sixteen  to  one,"  he  murmured,  smil 
ing.  "Are  we  to  be  submerged  in  a 
flood  of  white  corpuscles  ?  " 

"Have  you  seen  'The  End?'"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  looking  straight 
into  her  eyes ;  "  and  I  am  afraid  of  it." 

"Afraid!  Are  you  so  proud  of  the 
black  pigment?  " 

"  No ;  afraid  of  you.  You  dreamed 
that  painting,  and  the  face  of  the 
hero  was  white.  I  feared  it.  Does  it 
mean—?  " 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

55 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  You  have  not  answered  ? "  he 
queried,  petulantly. 

"  Nor  shall  I,"  she  replied,  coloring. 
"  May  not  a  woman  have  her  dreams? 
What  if  she  claims  the  right  to  choose 
her  own  motifs  ?  " 

"  So  you  are  like  the  rest !  "  he  cried, 
angrily.  "  One  hope,  one  ambition — to 
be  white.  No,  to  seem  white,  to  be  a 
mother  of  half —  " 

He  stopped  suddenly. 

"  You  almost  went  too  far  that  time, 
Kongo,  did  you  not?"  she  asked,  smil 
ing.  "  You  forgot  that  I  am  what  I  am 
because  a  negro  woman  preferred  a 
white  father  for  her  children." 

The  black  gentleman  rose  to  his  full 
height  in  unconscious  courage. 

"  You  are  wrong !  "  he  cried,  passion 
ately.  "  Say,  rather,  because  a  biack- 

56 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

leg  chose  your  mother  to  betray 
her!" 

"  Why  should  I  not  flock  with  my 
own?"  she  added,  not  noticing  his  ar 
raignment.  "  You  have  told  me  I  was 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Atlanta. 
So  have  others.  White  men  are  con 
tinually  raising  their  hats  to  me  by  mis 
take.  If  there  were  none  to  rise  up 
against  me  and  bear  witness,  I  could  be 
a  white  matron  to-morrow.  But  notice, 
Kongo,  I  said  '  matron/  not  *  mistress/ 
In  the  beginning  of  the  process  our 
women  must  needs  be  the  latter.  But 
for  me  the  process  is  over.  I  am  ready 
now  for  the  former." 

His  look  was  dark,  as  of  envy  clouded 
with  anger  at  the  unblushing  confession 
of  it. 

".It  has  always  been  so  with  my  peo- 

57 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

pie,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "Through  the 
trackless  jungles  for  millenniums  they 
have  gone  single  file.  No  union,  no 
strength,  no  power  of  combined  efforts 
— only  geese  on  their  way  down  the 
path." 

"  Listen,  Kongo,"  she  replied,  embit 
tered.  "  You  are  a  teacher  in  Israel, 
and  yet  you  cannot  understand.  Can 
not  you  see  why?  If  the  truth  were 
known,  who  could  deny  that  they  were 
once  as  black  as  you  are,  or  you  as  white 
as  they?  Whatever  the  primitive  color, 
their  ancestors  went  north  to  the  cool, 
moist  forests  of  Germany  and  bleached 
their  skin  and  hair.  Ours  went  south 
to  the  burning  heat  of  equatorial  Africa 
and  burned  the  black  in  for  centuries. 
Perhaps  only  the  black  ones  among  us 
could  live  where  any  show  of  color 

58 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED   FAIRY. 

brought  on  us  a  hundred  preying 
beasts;  perhaps  only  dark  skins  sur 
vived  the  glare  of  a  torrid  sun;  per 
haps  that  sun,  little  by  little,  burnt  the 
color  into  us.  Certain  it  was  that  the 
fittest  survived  in  tropical  Africa,  and 
the  fittest  will  survive  in  subtropical 
America.  Follow  the  equator  around 
the  world,  Kongo,  and  for  hundreds  of 
miles  north  and  south  of  it  what  do 
you  see?  Dark-skinned  peoples.  From 
Rome  to  Nyanza  it  is  so;  from  the 
Himalayas  to  Madagascar.  Is  subtrop 
ical  America  to  be  the  exception?  The 
people  who  lived  on  this  continent  be 
fore  the  white  folk  came  had  dark  skins 
and  black  hair  and  black  eyes.  Why? 
'Adaptive  coloration '  you  professors 
call  it,  and  it  is  unquestionably  so. 
What,  then,  of  these  white  people  ?  Was 

59 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

that  why  their  God  brought  us  here  to 
infuse  into  their  blood  the  power  to  live 
where  the  summer  temperature  seeks 
a  hundred  degrees  as  a  companion? 
They  despise  us.  Is  their  punishment 
to  be  the  blackening  of  their  breed  ?  " 

"  0,  Lola !  "  he  cried,  passionately, 
"  you  talk  now  as  you  used  to  do  when 
you  welcomed  my  embraces.  Tell 
me—" 

"  Hush !  Don't  speak  beside  the 
mark,"  she  continued,  quickly.  "  They 
talk  of  the  negro  as  if  they  feared  his 
dominion,  and  yet  they  are  the  scientific 
race.  Do  they  not  know  that  the  fittest 
survive?  I  read  their  books,  their 
poems,  their  songs,  and  the  tragedies 
they  weep  over.  But,  0  holy  Jesus, 
this  is  the  tragedy  none  write  about  nor 
care  for!" 

60 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

She  almost  gasped  out  the  words,  and 
then  grasping  his  arm  and  pointing  a 
shaking  finger  at  two  girls  passing  un 
der  the  arc  light,  she  continued : 

"  Look  at  them !  One  as  black  as  a 
Bantu  princess,  and  the  other  as  white 
as  I  am.  0,  can't  you  see  it!  Can't 
anybody  see  it?  She  is  a  castaway 
white  girl,  a  negro  to  her  own,  a  sus 
pect  to  the  black  folk.  Look  on  her 
and  you  see  the  Tragedid  Americana, 
the  horror  of  the  one  drop! " 

"  The  horror  that  grows  and  grows 
until  all  are  to  be  partakers  of  it," 
he  continued  for  her,  sarcastically. 
"  Surely  it  is  a  subject  for  the  great 
American  novel." 

"  The  great  American  novel !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  There  will  be  no  great 
American  novel  until  there  is  a  great 

61 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

American  race.  The  Aryan  tales  of  to 
day  are  no  more  to  be  classed  as  Amer 
ican  than  the  songs  of  the  Welsh  bards 
are  representative  British  productions. 
That  is  why  it  will  be  centuries  before 
the  great  American  novel  is  written; 
and  when  it  is  written,  negro  blood  will 
help  write  it." 

"And  yet,  Lola,"  he  cried,  softly, 
"  you  have  refused  me  my  kiss  three 
times  this  night.  Can't  we  love  one 
another?  Why  may  we  not?  " 

"  Listen,  Kongo,  and  I  will  tell  you 
why  we  may  not,"  she  answered,  ex 
citedly.  "  Look  at  that  negro  over 
there!  He  looks  like  I've  always  im 
agined  a  Hottentot  would  look.  He  has 
on  a  Knox  hat,  clean  collar,  tailored 
clothes,  and  tan  shoes.  He  is  dressed 
up  for  the  commencement  occasion  as  if 

62 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

he  were  going  over  to  Darktown  to  run 
with  his  girl.  Yet,  look  at  him!  He's 
a  chimpanzee.  See  his  monkey  face, 
his  sensual  features,  his  plaintive,  baf 
fled-brute  look,  as  if  a  wild  beast  who 
is  living  among  things  he  cannot  under 
stand.  See  his  kinky  wool  and  thick, 
padded  lips.  Do  you  think  I  want  my 
children  to  look  like  him?  Why  should 
they  not  have  brown  hair  and  blue 
eyes?" 

The  man  leaned  back  heavily  against 
the  oak.  Here,  indeed,  was  a  brutality 
of  statement  and  a  scorn  of  racial  pride 
and  virtue.  What  white  man  would 
have  said  it? 

"  I  am  sorry,  Kongo,"  she  continued, 
"  that  our  love  affairs  have  been  trans 
formed  into  a  discussion  of  ethnology. 
Perhaps  *  The  End  '  did  have  something 

63 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

to  do  with  my  change  of  feelings.  One 
never  is  able  to  stop  when  one  begins 
dreaming.  But,  after  all,  Kongo,  what 
a  useless  thing  it  is  for  a  race  to  kick 
against  the  pricks,  even  the  white  race ! 
The  mother  continent  which  they  have 
called  "America  "  after  one  of  their  own 
number  knows  no  love  for  white  faces. 
Her  children  have  been  tall  and  dark- 
skinned,  tawny  and  high  of  cheek  bone. 
The  eternal  gifts  she  has  given  them 
made  them  so — her  sun,  her  soil,  her 
mothered  foods,  her  maize,  her  meats. 
Will  a  mother  change  the  hue  of  her 
children  ?  No.  Dark  they  were,  black- 
eyed  and  black-haired,  and  dark  they 
will  remain.  Already  keen  observers 
are  noting  the  change — how  the  whites 
are  taking  on  the  physical  characteris 
tics  the  mother  continent  requires  of 

64 


A  MUDDY-FOOTED  FAIRY. 

her  children.  Wait  until  they  have 
blended  into  an  octoroon  nation,  and 
even  Sitting  Bull  would  think  their 
breed  his." 

But  the  man  said  nothing  more. 

"  He  is  indeed  brave,"  she  added, 
more  gently,  "  who  lays  his  plans  with 
out  thought  of  mother  continent.  Who 
ever  and  whatever  lives  upon  her  back 
does  not  so  of  its  own  accord,  but  be 
cause  she  wills  it  so.  Africa  loved  the 
zebra  and  hippopotamus  and  negro,  and 
made  them  for  herself.  Bright-faced 
America  chose  the  red  man  and  the 
turkey.  Destroy  her  fauna,  and  she 
merely  goes  to  work  to  create  them 
again.  That  is  why  the  race  inhabit 
ing  this  continent  will  always  be  dark, 
and  he  who  lives  along  the  Niger 
black.  Asia  loves  yellow  and  Europe 

65 
5 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

loves  white,  just  as  you,  Kongo, 
love—  " 

She  turned  to  look  upon  him,  per 
haps  to  ease  his  pain  with  a  touch;  but 
he  had  gone. 

Gathering  her  skirts  gracefully,  she 
walked  swiftly  to  her  dormitory — she, 
the  white  woman  who  would  not  be  a 
negro,  the  negro  who  could  not  be  white. 
As  she  passed  under  the  trees,  two  gen 
tlemen  went  by  the  arc  light. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Keough," 
she  murmured. '  "  Both  of  them  are 
handsome,  and  neither  is  married.  I 
wonder  what  they  thought  of  '  The 
End/  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

The  soft  haze  of  the  Indian  summer 
covered  the  rolling  foothills  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  with  a  mystic  veil  which  Roy  Ke- 
ough  loved  to  gaze  upon.  From  his 
window  on  the  fourteenth  floor  of  the 
Commonwealth  Building  he  looked  out 
upon  it  and  watched  the  dreamy  mist 
slowly  obscure  the  distant  hills.  The 
lights  of  the  great  city  gleamed  below 
him,  and  the  elevators  in  the  skyscrap 
ers  around  winked  at  him  as  they 
passed  from  floor  to  floor.  The  crowds 
grew  denser  at  Silverman's  Corner  till 
the  women  were  holding  to  the  straps 
on  the  street  cars.  The  searchlights  of 
the  motor  cars  blinded  the  stranger  at 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

the  crossings  and  made  him  pause  to 
practice  his  eyesight  on  the  giant  struc 
tures  rising  to  fabulous  heights  around 
him  and  wonder  at  the  daemon  of  At 
lanta.  "  0,  magic  name !  "  thought  Ke- 
ough,  looking  out  upon  the  panorama 
before  him;  Atlanta,  the  fleet-footed 
maiden  who  had  outstripped  all  comers 
to  the  race,  even  though  she  had  stooped 
to  grasp  the  golden  apples  of  Hippo- 
menes  by  the  way!  Wonderful  city, 
whose  love  had  made  men  great,  whose 
spirit  breathed  the  Eternal  Urge  into 
her  children!  From  the  corners  of  the 
earth  she  had  drawn  her  own  together 
to  race  with  her  for  the  attainment  of 
great  things.  "  My  spirit  shall  be  the 
prize  of  all  who  run  with  me  in  the  race, 
and  death  the  penalty  of  those  who  try 
and  fail."  Thus  she  spoke  to  those  who 

70 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

breathed  her  breath  after  her,  who 
came  from  afar  to  seek  her  hand  with 
no  apples  of  gold  to  aid  them  in  the 
race.  The  spirit  of  that  which  is  to 
come  was  hers,  of  the  farther  plan  wait 
ing  to  be  born.  The  creators  of  the 
earth  had  heard  of  her,  and  come  hasti 
ly  to  join  in  making  things.  Their 
blood,  their  blazonry,  their  history — 
these  things  mattered  not ;  but  the  ques 
tions  were:  Had  she  placed  the  Eter 
nal  Urge  within  them?  Could  they 
make  a  thing?  Could  they  dream  that 
which  was  to  be?  -  Could  they  strive  for 
her  hand?  Would  they  stake  their  all 
upon  the  issue  and  seek  out  their  Venus 
on  her  Cyprian  isle  to  pray  for  their 
apples  ? 

"  0,    mighty    city !  "    he    murmured, 
softly,  "  I  love  you,  love  you !     We  will 

71 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

run  the  race  together.  Breathe  thou 
the  spirit  of  thy  glorious  haste  into  my 
nostrils !  " 

It  had  grown  darker  when  he  walked 
out  upon  the  pavement  of  Peachtree 
Street  and  turned  northward  toward 
his  home.  He  would  take  a  brisk  walk 
to  his  lodgings.  As  he  passed  through 
the  crowds  at  Silverman's  Corner,  the 
Fates  reached  out  their  hands  to  take 
him. 

The  Third-Race  woman  came  rapidly 
down  the  street  toward  him.  In  a  sort 
of  subconscious  way  he  recognized  her 
as  Laura  Lawson,  and  wondered  why 
she  had  come  back  from  her  New  York 
trip  so  soon.  Automatically  he  reached 
for  his  notebook,  for  it  must  be  in  to 
morrow's  "  Personals."  Before  he 
could  more  than  touch  his  pencil,  a  sud- 

72 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

den  turn  of  the  current  of  foot  passen 
gers  threw  them  opposite  one  another; 
in  fact,  she  almost  ran  into  his  arms. 
He  had  met  her  once  at  a  church  recep 
tion,  but  she  would  probably  not  recog 
nize  him.  Instinctively  he  raised  his 
hat,  and  said :  "  I  beg  a  thousand  par 
dons,  Miss  Lawson !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Keough,"  she  an 
swered,  amused  at  his  expression  of  re 
gret.  "  Really  in  Atlanta  we  seem  to 
be  compelled  to  throw  ourselves  at  peo 
ple!" 

Lola  Lawson  started  thus  upon  her 
long-dreamed  madness,  for  she  knew 
she  had  been  mistaken  for  her  full-white 
half-sister. 

He  was  pleased,  and  she  was  beauti 
ful.  New  York  had  dealt  kindly  with 
her. 

73 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  It  was  my  fault  entirely,"  he  apol 
ogized.  "Absent-minded —  " 

"  You  need  no  explanation."  Her 
heart  pounded  her  bosom  for  that  he 
had  not  recognized  her,  and  it  had 
grown  a  custom  with  her  of  late  to  drink 
of  these  white  nectars  on  the  streets. 
"  But  I  wonder  what  thought  could 
have  been  so  pleasant  as  to  make  you 
forget  that  you  were  at  Silverman's 
Corner." 

"  Would  you  really  care  to  know,  Miss 
Lawson  ?  " 

Then  she  understood,  and  her  heart 
beat  fast.  He  had  admired  her  sister. 

"  Should  I?  Who  would  not  wish  to 
know  even  one  paragraph  of  the  *  Song 
and  Story '  before  it  appears  in  the 
Commonwealth?  " 

"  You  are  a  splendid  guesser,  so  far 

74 


THE  BEGINNING  OP  THE  END. 

as  the  Commonwealth  is  concerned;  but 
it  was  not  a  song,  and  certainly  not  a 
story.  I  was  reaching  for  this  pencil 
to  make  note  that  you  were  an  Atlantian 
again." 

"Again?    I  am  always." 

"  Then  you  will  certainly  take  a  coca- 
cola  with  me." 

"And  put  antikink  on  this  hair  to 
take  these  curls  away?"  she  bantered, 
fighting  for  time  to  think. 

"  Not  by  the  antikink  man's  fortune, 
all  of  which  he  would  give  for  one  of 
those  ringlets.  But  you  may  say  what 
you  please  about  the  post-office  receipts. 
Is  it  Chicago  we  passed  with  the  current 
year  ending — " 

"And  of  Peachtree  Street?" 

"  Yes,  your  native — but  perhaps  you 
were  not  born  here." 

75 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Born  here !  "  she  exclaimed,  laugh 
ing.  "  Have  you  ever  heard  of  any  one 
who  was  born  in  Atlanta?  " 

"  Come!  "  he  said,  catching  some  of 
her  hilarity.  "  You  have  the  spirit,  and 
it  is  only  a  few  steps  to  the  Crystal  Pal 
ace." 

Why  should  she  not?  One  day  by 
mistake  in  the  Scanlon  Building  she 
had  absent-mindedly  failed  to  take  the 
elevator  marked  "  For  Boxes,  Trunks, 
and  Negroes,"  and  had  entered  that 
"  For  Whites  Only."  Yet  half  a  dozen 
men  had  politely  lifted  their  hats,  and 
more  than  one  of  them  looked  at  her 
with  manifest  admiration. 

"  If  I  go  to  my  doom,  it  will  be  God's 
palaver,"  she  muttered,  lowering  her 
veil  and  taking  her  place  by  his  side. 

By  that  strange  law  of  subconscious 

76 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

association  of  ideas  she  suddenly  found 
herself  asking  of  herself:  "What  be 
came  of  the  ancient  Roman  slaves  whose 
skins  were  black?  " 

"  It  would  take  centuries — centuries 
to  assimilate  them,"  she  seemed  to  hear 
Kongo  Copelin  say. 

"  There  is  no  lack  of  centuries,"  she 
had  replied. 

77 


CHAPTER  V. 
A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

Kongo  Copelin  remembered  her  words 
as  he  walked  slowly  down  the  street. 

"And  you  want  me  to  do  a  thing, " 
she  had  said,  "  that  no  Third-Race  girl 
of  my  class  would  do.  Do  you  not  know 
that  fewer  and  fewer  quadroon  girls  are 
willing  for  their  families  to  grow  any 
darker?" 

It  was,  indeed,  a  bitter  thing. 
"Black  fellow,  tumble  down;  jump  up, 
white  fellow,"  was  a  saying  he  had 
heard  among  his  people;  and  his  father 
had  told  him  of  how  a  friend,  who  had 
been  smuggled  to  America  a  few  years 
before  the  war,  had  thrown  himself  into 
the  Chattahoochee  one  night,  hoping  to 

81 
6 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

awake  among  his  people  on  the  tangled 
banks  of  the  Benue.  "  What  a  curious 
craving  they  must  have  to  be  white !  " 
he  muttered. 

There  had  been  a  day  long  ago  on  the 
slave  coast  when  the  simple  black  folk, 
to  whom  transmigration  was  an  eter 
nal  verity,  supposed  these  strange  ethe 
real  beings  who  came  among  them  from 
Europe  to  be  their  own  dead  who  had 
come  back  to  them  from  the  other  world 
for  the  love  wherewith  they  had  loved 
their  country.  But  now — 

"  Yet  why  are  these  pale  people 
great?  "  he  thought.  "  Is  it  not  because 
in  the  frozen  North  it  was  only  the 
fittest  who  survived,  and  the  fittest  were 
the  greatest  in  brain  as  well  as  in 
brawn?  And  why  are  we  black  people 
their  servants  ?  "  he  added.  "  Because 

82 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

of  an  equatorial,  enervating  sun  and  a 
climate  that  served  our  meals  regularly 
on  the  trees.  Their  snow  and  cold  and 
wind  made  them  great,  and  it  will  make 
us  great  also — given  time — centuries; 
and  she  says  there  is  no  lack  of  cen 
turies. 

But  she  had  called  his  people  "  chim 
panzees  ! " 

As  he  was  thinking  thus,  he  remem 
bered,  revengefully,  how  the  chimpan 
zee  and  the  white  man  were  associated 
in  the  minds  of  the  forest  folk  in  his 
native  Africa,  the  pale  yellow  of  the 
former  serving  to  resemble  the  Aryans. 

So  he  mused  on. 

"  Why  should  these  Teutons  wonder 
at  that  animal  look  of  untamable  wild- 
ness  in  their  faces?  For  a  thousand 
generations  their  brother  had  been  old 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

saber-tooth  and  their  mortal  foe  the 
lion.  They  had  learned  to  fear  and  be 
silent,  and  the  fear  that  must  speak  had 
found  expression  in  their  eyes.  These 
loud-tongued  Aryans  who  babbled  all 
they  knew,  who  seemed  never  to  keep 
their  words  off  their  tongues — no  won 
der  they  could  not  understand  the  in 
stinctive  secretiveness  of  the  savage. 
As  to  his  own  people,  it  would  take  a 
dozen  centuries  to  drive  the  forest  wild- 
ness  from  their  eyes,  to  remove  the 
smell  of  the  jungle  from  them.  They 
were  men  at  least,  for  they  had  not 
gone  backward.  Any  Bantu  child 
could  tell  the  curious  legend  of  the 
monkey-men — apes,  who  used  to  be  men, 
but  took  to  living  in  the  forests  with 
the  tree  people.  Compare  this  with  the 
unparalleled  record  of  his  race  in  Amer- 

84 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

ica  during  the  last  forty  years.  And  all 
this  talk  about  the  assaulting  of  white 
women!  See  how  these  phallic  whites 
betrayed  the  black  women,  and  no  one 
noticed  it  at  all.  And  the  more  he 
thought  of  the  cruel  duplicity  of  the 
white  deal,  the  more  his  wrath  was 
stirred.  These  Caucasian  men  who 
with  one  voice  proclaimed  themselves 
poor  worms  of  the  dust  and  with  the 
next  promised  each  other  that  they  were 
to  be  the  sons  of  God,  a  white  God — 
willing  enough  to  rise  from  a  dunghill 
to  a  palace,  but  unwilling  that  a  black- 
faced  brother  should  enter  their  circle — 
what  would  God  say  of  them  if  per 
chance  he  should  prove  a  black  God,  if 
his  name  should  be  Unkulunkulu  in 
stead  of  Jehovah  ?  " 

"  Halala !  "  he  exclaimed,  using  the 

85 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Zulu  cry  of  exultation.  "Then  they 
would  have  their  reward." 

As  he  spoke,  he  came  opposite  the 
white  splendor  of  the  Crystal  Palace.  He 
looked  in  at  the  glistening  tiling  and  the 
mirrors  resplendent  with  light.  The 
brilliant  glow  of  it  held  his  eye,  and  he 
paused  for  a  moment  on  his  way. 

"  Becalmed  and  looking  at  the  fish," 
he  murmured,  remembering  the  Afri 
can  proverb  of  the  poor  man  who  gazed 
wistfully  at  what  he  might  not  grasp. 

A  woman  and  her  escort  brushed  by 
him  and  entered  the  white  splendor 
beyond.  Kongo  moved  obsequiously 
aside. 

"  Behind  dog  it  is  dog,"  he  muttered, 
"  but  before  dog  it  is  Mr.  Dog!  " 

"  Neither  ape  nor  man  are  we,"  he 
continued,  bitterly.  "  There  is  scarce 

86 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

a  child  in  West  Africa  who  does  not 
know  that  apes  are  really  wiser  than 
negroes,  for  they  had  sense  enough  to 
keep  their  mouths  shut,  so  that  they 
would  not  have  to  work !  But  the  won 
der—  " 

There  he  stopped,  for  the  face  seemed 
strangely  familiar  despite  the  veil,  which 
was  drawn  down  as  far  as  its  owner 
chose.  She  sat  with  her  friend  at  a  ta 
ble  partly  separated  from  the  rest,  and 
she  herself  faced  Peachtree.  His  back 
was  thus  to  the  street,  and  only  were  he 
to  turn  could  he  be  recognized.  This 
had  not  happened,  but  the  girl  was  fre 
quently  looking  rather  furtively  toward 
the  door.  The  eyes  that  thrilled  men 
till  they  came  to  their  knees,  the  nose 
so  delicately  penciled,  the  dark  curls — 
all  these — were — they — not — his?  She 

87 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

lifted  her  face;  the  electric  light  sud 
denly  fell  full  upon  it. 

"  Lola  Lawson !  "  he  exclaimed,  ex 
citedly.  "  It  is  she,  or  I  am  crazy !  " 

A  man  passing  by,  who  had  been  gaz 
ing  as  all  the  rest  toward  the  effulgence 
beyond,  turned  to  look  at  him,  and,  see 
ing  that  he  was  a  negro,  passed  on. 

"  She  has  fled  from  the  sword  and 
hid  in  the  scabbard,"  he  muttered. 
"  She  would  be  burned  at  the  stake  if 
they  discovered  her.  He  thinks  it  is  her 
sister.  Who — can — he — be  ?  " 

He  watched  them  then  as  they  sat  un 
der  the  brilliant  lights.  The  Crystal 
Palace  was  one  glow  of  effulgence,  and 
gay  enough  even  for  a  girl  who  knew 
herself  to  be  drinking  madness  with  her 
frappe.  The  muffled  feet  of  young 
white  boys  flew  here  and  there  as  they 

88 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

sped  to  fulfill  the  orders  of  the  guests. 
Mr.  Webster,  the  richest  man  in  At 
lanta,  was  there  with  Dr.  Wilfong,  his 
friend  from  Dunvegan,  and  more  than 
one  of  the  upper  tier  sat  round  their 
gossipy  tables.  Lola  Lawson  scarcely 
once  turned  her  face  from  the  Peachtree 
way,  so  that  he  could  see  her  every  ex 
pression,  and  the  man  faced  her  at  the 
table.  In  spite  of  the  warping  fire  of 
his  jealousy,  Copelin  felt  that  they  were 
mates  far  more  than  he  and  the  white- 
black  girl  could  ever  be.  The  man  was 
handsome  and  well  groomed  and  viva 
cious  enough,  and  of  the  pair  seemed  to 
be  enjoying  himself  the  more.  The 
girl's  finely  chiseled  lips  seemed  some 
times  to  quiver  a  little  with  fear — the 
fear  of  the  animal  of  the  wild  who  was 
lost  from  her  people  and  has  found 

89 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

them  again.  It  was,  perhaps,  fear  lest 
such  as  he,  Kongo,  might  come  in  and 
claim  her  as  a  renegade — come  in  and 
say :  "  You  belong  to  the  black  people. 
The  taint  of  our  blood  is  in  your  veins. 
You  are  a  jungle  woman.  You  have 
forsaken  your  kind  for  the  White  Cir 
cle.  You—  "  Then  the  man,  the  Teu 
ton,  would  drive  her  back  into  the  jun 
gle  again.  For  a  moment  Kongo  was 
tempted  to  do  just  this  thing.  What 
right  had  she  to  leave  him?  He  was 
the  son  of  a  king  of  the  jungle;  she,  a 
daughter  of  plebeians,  in  spite  of  her 
wonderful  beauty.  Then  he  remem 
bered  that  she  was  now  within  the  Cir 
cle,  that  with  her  eyebrows  she  could 
destroy  him,  and  the  man  in  all  proba 
bility  shoot  him  down  on  the  tiled  floor 
as  the  fire  people  used  to  do  to  the  tree 

90 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

folk  who  came  too  near.     No;  but  he 
would  watch  the  perfidy  of  it. 

The  man  loved  her;  he  could  see  it 
by  his  tones,  his  gestures,  his  bearing. 
She  could  see  it,  too,  yet  she  seemed  .to 
be  afraid  of  something.  The  man  whis 
pered  eagerly  and  said  something,  be 
fore  which  he  measured  the  nearness  of 
his  neighbors  with  a  hasty  glance.  She 
had  blushed  and  risen  to  go,  but  the 
man  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  her, 
and  she  sat  down  again.  He  could 
hardly  believe  it  was  Lola.  As  the  man 
had  half  risen  he  had  partly  turned  his 
face,  and  the  features,  half  seen,  seemed 
remarkably  familiar.  He  was  hand 
some,  and  bore  himself  with  the  man 
ners  of  a  Southern  gentleman,  and  the 
girl  seemed  already  dear  to  him.  Yet 
he  was  probably  of  no  more  ancient 

91 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

family  than  Kongo ;  and  had  he  been  in 
the  class  of  '01,  he  would  probably 
have  scarce  outranked  others  whom  the 
black  professor  had  beaten.  What 
right  had  he  to  take  the  girl  away? 
And  what  did  he  want  with  her?  He 
was  not  so  strong  as  Kongo,  nor  more 
of  a  gentleman  bred.  Did  the  glow  of 
the  fire  circle  make  his  halo  for  him? 
And  should  the  lineal  descendant  of 
Ubamba,  the  king,  let  this  European 
serf  steal  his  woman  away  because  the 
black  man  learned  last  to  build  his  camp 
fire?  No!  By  all  the  terrors  of  the 
jungle,  he  would  go  into  that  room  if 
he  were  shot  down  the  next  moment, 
and  tell  the  man  that  he  should  not  have 
her !  He  would — 

The  man  had  risen,  and  the  white 
light  shone  full  upon  his  features. 

92 


A  WINDOW  IN  ATLANTA. 

It  was  Roy  Keough! 

Kongo  moved  back  into  the  shadows 
of  the  gutter.  The  white  man  and  the 
woman  who  would  come  out  of  the  for 
est  to  sit  by  his  fire  circle  passed  him 
quickly.  The  man  looked  out  to  the 
streets  and  said  to  his  companion,  who 
had  lowered  her  veil : 

"Did  you  see  that  negro  there  to  the 
left?  His  face  reminded  me  of  a  wild 
beast's  glare." 

"And  do  you  know,"  she  replied,  as 
he  took  her  arm  and  adjusted  her  wrap 
gently,  "  he  has  been  gazing  into  the 
window  for  an  hour?  " 

"  Strange,  isn't  it?  "  he  murmured. 
"  They  have  but  one  ambition — to  come 
in  to  the  camp  fire." 

93 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

"  See,"  said  Keough,  gayly,  as  they 
walked  on  out  Peachtree,  "  here  we  are 
at  the  Scanlon  Building.  These  roses 
in  the  florist's  windows  are  not  quite 
beautiful  enough  for  your  hands,  but 
may  we  take  them  to  your  home? 
Come,  let's  go  in  for  a  bouquet.  I  didn't 
suppose  Atlanta  could  furnish  such 
beauties,"  he  continued. 

"  Perhaps  they  are  some  that  the 
Charleston  papers  are  always  throwing 
at  our  city,"  she  suggested,  gayly. 

A  look  of  amused  appreciation  was 
her  reward  for  the  sally. 

"  So  you  really  read  the  Common 
wealth?  "  he  ventured. 

97 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"Read  it?  I  know  Dunvegan  by 
heart;  and  as  for  Dr.  Wilfong,  by  the 
way,  was  he  the  man  who  was  afraid 
to  wash  the  top  of  his  buggy  for  fear 
of  'starting  the  village  gossips?  " 

"  Don't  let's  talk  of  Dunvegan  to 
night.  It  reminds  me  that  for  twelve 
years  I  have  been  wanting  to  go  back 
there.  I  may 'never  live  in  the  sight  of 
the  Wa-haws,  but  at  least  this  can  be 
said  of  me  Miss  Lawson — that  while 
others  stay  in  Dunvegan  and  grow  tired 
of  her,  esteeming  the  ill-kept,  sunless 
city  above  their  open  spaces  of  sky  and 
greensward,  I,  living  where  they  would 
that  they  were,  wish  myself  for  noth 
ing  more  than  they  have ;  nor  do  I  ever 
forget  the  sunlit  window  of  my  boy 
hood  home,  nor  the  red-faced  woodbine 
that  clambered  over  the  old  white- 

98 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

washed  fence.  Do  you  know,  Miss 
Lawson,  I  believe  these  are  my  eternal 
loves.  They  call  me  when  I  dine  at  the 
Attacoa  or  lunch  in  the  New  York  Cafe. 
They  say  to  me :  '  We  love  only  you ;  we 
know  you  dream  of  us  nightly.  We  see 
your  people  daily  and  watch  the  spots 
you  used  most  to  love.  We  wait,  fear 
ing  to  die,  lest  possibly  to-morrow  you 
might  come  to  find  us  gone." 

As  he  said  the  last  words  he  looked 
into  her  eyes,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
some  miniature  god  of  showers  had 
cast  his  rainbows  therein  to  be  mended. 
The  clerk  was  boxing  the  roses  behind 
the  counter  to  the  rear;  and  the  telltale 
moisture  in  her  eyes  and  the  entrancing 
odors  of  the  flowers — 

"  Miss  Lawson,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
planned  to  go  back  there  some  day,  but 

99 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

I  am  afraid  no  one  from  Atlanta  would 
go  with  me." 

Her  heart  throbbed,  and  she  knew  her 
face  was  crimson.  This  was  the  white 
nectar  she  craved  so.  Ah,  to  drink  it, 
drink  it,  drink  it! 

"'Miss  Lawson?'"  she  whispered, 
softly. 

He  understood. 

"  Laura,"  he  murmured,  "  you  make 
me  very  happy." 

"  Few  women  are  so  blessed.  You 
must  tell  me  more  of  Dunvegan  some 
times  when  this  horrid  clerk  will  stay 
away.  See,  he  has  finished  his  tying  al 
ready." 

Out  into  the  night  they  went  again — 
into  the  night  turned  day  with  a  thou 
sand  brilliant  lights. 
100 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

"  Let  us  walk  slowly,"  she  suggested. 
"  I  hate  to  rush." 

"  Your  servant  also.  To  hurry  in 
Dunvegan  was  a  crime.  One  might 
miss  something;  and  I  am  sure  I  would 
to-night." 

"  That  was  good  of  you ;  and  should 
my  father  be  on  the  porch,  it  might  be 
very  true.  Don't  be  alarmed  if  he  or 
ders  me  out  of  his  house,"  she  said, 
laughing. 

But  the  awful  tragedy  of  his  possi 
ble  presence  made  her  tremble. 

"  Why  doesn't  he  buy  some  watch 
dogs  and  be  done  with  it?  Does  he  ex 
pect  to  keep  you  for  himself?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  too  considerate  of 
you  boys.  But,  seriously,  I  shall  have 

to  tell  you  good-by  at  the  front  gate." 
101 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Then  let  me  remind  you  of  your 
prejudice;  we  are  fairly  rushing  along." 

She  laughed  softly. 

"  You  are  as  refreshing  as — what 
shall  I  say?" 

"  'A  coca-cola/  of  course.  Where 
were  you  raised  ?  " 

"  In   Birmingham,   where   they   cry,   . 
'  Come  on ;  let's  get  drunk  and  tell  our 
sho'    'nuff    names ! '       she    exclaimed, 
laughing.     "  Why  not  as  an  automobile 
ride?" 

"  Because  there  are  autos  and  autos. 
Now  if  it  were  in  your  father's —  "  he 
bantered. 

"  Then  in  my  father's  it  shall  be — his 
six-cylindered !  " 

"  I  was  only  joking —  " 

"  But  I  was  not.     Besides,  for  shame 

to  flout  my  invitation —  " 
102 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

"Laura!" 

"  Forgive  me.  I  shall  call  for  you  at 
my  convenience.  But  see,  we  are  here 
at  the  gate." 

It  was  before  one  of  the  older  homes 
of  Atlanta  that  they  stood,  built  by  a 
gentleman  of  another  generation,  and 
bought  by  the  popular  and  successful 
dentist,  whose  accomplished  daughter 
was  in  New  York,  and  whose  child  of 
the  demi-monde  had  now  come  by  a  sing 
ular  road — forced  to  tremble  at  the  gate, 
lest  her  part  in  the  drama  should  fail. 
The  lights  of  the  city  street  showed  the 
white  pillars  before  the  doorway  and  lit 
up  the  perfect  outline  of  it.  The  door 
was  partly  open,  and  within  the  form  of 
a  strong  and  commanding  figure  could 
be  plainly  seen. 

But  the  gate  was  in  the  shadow  of 

103 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

the  magnolias,  and  he  had  not  seen  the 
girl  enter.  Nor  was  there  any  needless 
noise  to  disturb  them.  She  stood  grace 
fully  leaning  on  the  post  from  within, 
and  Keough  upon  the  gate  from  with 
out. 

"  You  must  go  now,"  she  whispered, 
softly ;  "  but  we  shall  meet  again. 
Good-by!" 

"And  will  it  be  '  Laura '  next  time, 
too,"  he  asked,  "  or  will  you  forget  what 
has  passed  ?  " 

"Forget  it?"  she  almost  cried. 
"  Would  you  think  me  foolish  if  I  said — 
if  I  told—  " 

"  Quick,  please !     Say  on." 

"  That  I  could  never  forget  it,"  she 
added,  simply,  leaning  forward  slightly 
toward  him. 

104 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

The  figure  in  the  doorway  moved — 
came  out  and  stood  upon  the  porch. 

"Please,  Roy— Mr.  Keough,"  she 
whispered,  excitedly,  "  don't  move,  don't 
say  a  word,  even  if  he  speaks  to  us.  He 
— he  is  almost  insane  if  a  young  man 
comes  home  with  me.  Hush !  " 

Motionless  they  stood  together  in  the 
shadows,  and  he  reached  out  his  arm  to 
protect  her.  It  was  unconsciously  done, 
for  he  was  thinking  of  the  new  man 
who  stood  in  the  ancient  doorway;  but 
she  leaned  gladly  upon  it.  The  throb 
of  his  heart  as  he  touched  her !  Surely 
she  heard  it,  for  she  quivered  and 
turned  her  face  up  toward  him.  In  her 
eyes  he  read  a  lovely  thing;  and  it  was 
^very  dark  under  the  magnolias.  He 
leaned  forward  to  touch  her  lips,  and 
she  smiled  at  him. 

105 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Wait  a  little  while,"  she  murmured. 
"  It  will  seem  a  very  long  one — to  me." 

But  0,  what  a  cup! — what  a  golden 
chalice  to  dash  from  her  lips! 

The  figure  still  stood  upon  the  porch, 
and  the  light  from  the  open  doorway 
behind  him  cast  his  shadow  down  the 
walk  to  the  gate.  He  seemed  to  be  look 
ing  for  some  one.  But  the  man  and 
woman  at  the  gate  made  no  movement. 
The  man  had  come  inside  the  gate,  and 
the  woman  rested  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder.  Keough  watched  the  figure, 
and,  since  he  must  be  quiet,  he  studied 
its  meaning.  On  him  the  contrast  was 
not  lost.  There  was  the  ancient  door 
way,  in  which  he  seemed  to  see  the  pil 
lars  of  the  stout  hearts  who  built  and 
loved  them,  and  the  strong  lintels  of 
that  civilization  which  prided  itself 

106 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

upon  its  untarnished  blood.  Any  one 
to  whom  the  gods  had  given  gold  might 
go  and  buy  one  of  these  old-timy  por 
tals  and  look  up  at  the  entablature  as 
if  it  were  his.  Architrave  and  frieze 
and  cornice — he  could  tell  the  names 
and  describe  the  mode  of  each.  But  if 
he  be  not  to  the  manner  born,  how  they 
mock  him!  The  souls  of  pure,  strong 
men  are  in  them.  For  a  man  of  mon 
grel  stock,  a  seducer  of  the  women  of 
a  child  race,  to  walk  in  and  out  beneath 
those  lintels  is  desecration  indeed.  The 
spirits  of  the  long  dead  expressed  them 
selves  in  those  doorways.  All  their 
simplicity  and  elegance  and  strength  is 
there,  and  the  sons  of  the  dado  and 
gingerbread  ornaments  must  not  stoop 
to  look  into  this  ark,  lest  fire  should 
come  forth  and  consume  them.  There 

107 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

are  things  there  which  only  those  may 
see  who  also  love.  Ah,  ye  ancient  door 
ways,  blessed  is  the  man  who  can  pass 
through  you  and  on  to  the  path  of  his 
fathers  and  not  notice  the  shortness  of 
his  stature! 

Suddenly  the  man  of  the  new  era 
began  walking  down  the  steps  of  his 
house,  and  came  on  quickly  toward  the 
gate. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  on  into  the  house," 
she  said.  "  Get  back  into  the  shadows ! 
Hush !  Not  a  whisper !  " 

She  came  out  then  into  the  dim  light 
which  came  from  the  open  doorway. 

"  Why,  child,"  Dr.  Lawson  exclaimed, 
starting  suddenly  at  the  sight  of  the 
daughter,  "  you  frightened  me!  What 
are  you  doing  here  alone?  " 

She  walked  forward  to  meet  him. 

108 


THE  DENTIST'S  DOORWAY. 

"  Father,"  Keough  could  hear,  "  may 
I  not  sometimes — ?"  and  then  her 
words  died  out  as  they  two  passed  on 
ward  into  the  house. 

109 


CHAPTER  VII. 
ALSO  A  TEUTON? 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

"  Me  git  married  ?  No,  suh !  Sallie 
I  come,  an'  Sallie  I'se  gwinter  go!  Fo' 
chillun — fo'  diff'unt  white  men;  an'  I 
ain't  ashamed  of  it!  You  may  call  it 
*  crim'nal,'  but  the  white  men  don't !  I 
tells  all  my  gals  to  do  like  their  mammy 
an'  they  won't  go  far  wrong." 

Kongo  Copelin  looked  at  this  mulatto 
woman,  who  had  the  unblushing  hardi 
hood  to  say  such  a  thing,  with  a  great 
sadness.  It  was  infinitely  repugnant, 
not  only  to  his  sense  of  decency,  but  of 
race  destiny  as  well.  Furthermore,  it 
came  from  her  mother. 

Lola  Lawson  smiled  at  him  amusedly. 

"  Mammy's  philosophy  is  crude,  isn't 

113 

8 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

it?  But  see  how  time  has  tested  it  out. 
'  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them/ 
Look  on  me !  " 

The  octoroon  woman  spoke  again, 
sharply. 

"  I  know  what  you're  a-thinkin', 
Copelin;  but  as  for  me,  I'd  a  long  sight 
rather  be  a  white  man's  mistress  than 
a  nigger  man's  wife.  I  means  for  my 
chillun  to  have  some  sort  o'  show  in  life ; 
an'  I'se  done  learned  early  dat  de 
brighter  de  face,  de  brighter  de  chance. 
Look  at  that  gal  o'  mine  there!  You 
been  teasin'  her  'bout  what  she  done 
t'other  night  at  that  Crystal  Palace. 
You're  ashamed  of  it.  I  glories  in  it, 
an'  I  prays  God  to  let  her  git  him ;  an'  I 
ain't  standin'  in  her  way — not  if  dis  co't 
knows  itself." 

114 


ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

The  negro  professor  turned  to  Lola 
Lawson. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  we  must  be  go 
ing!  " 

They  left  the  cheap  cottage  on  Jack 
son  Row  and  walked  slowly  toward  the 
cleaner  quarters  of  the  city. 

"Which  way  shall  we  stroll  to 
night?"  he  asked. 

"  Peachtree  Street,"  she  replied,  low 
ering  her  veil. 

"  You  want  to  say  something  to  me," 
she  began,  falteringly.  "  Why  did  you 
stare  at  me  so  hard  through  the  win 
dow?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  urged.  "  Say  it  all; 
we  are  alone." 

"Alone !  "  he  answered,  bitterly,  mus 
ing  as  if  half  dreaming—"  I  and  my  fa 
ns 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

thers.  It  has  ever  been  so!  Alone  on 
their  vast  continent  they  lived,  grega 
rious  rather  than  social,  sons  of  the  glo 
rious  jungle;  kinsmen  of  the  wild 
breeds  therein,  fleet  as  the  hartebeest, 
thick-headed  as  the  ostrich,  adaptively 
colored  as  the  zebra.  Myriads  of  ani 
mals  shared  their  valleys  and  velts,  yet 
they  lived  alone  among  them,  attaching 
none  to  themselves,  domesticating  no 
living  thing,  linking  no  single  other 
creature  permanently  to  the  human 
race.  How  shall  we  be  expected  to 
adapt  ourselves  to  this  new  world  into 
which  they  who  hunted  us  down  have 

cast  us?    If  for  ages  among  a  wonder- 

i 

ful  wealth  of  wild  life  we  attached  no 

single  animated  thing  to  us,  how  may 
we  now  excel  in  a  world  where  a  horse 
and  his  master  have  been  buried  togeth- 

116 


ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

er  from  time  immemorial,  where  even 
the  cats  have  hospitals?  Tell  me,  Lola! 
I  am  alone.  It  is  in  the  breed,  is  it  not? 
That  is  why  you  are  casting  me  off." 

"  I  have  not  cast  you  off.  I  may 
fail—  " 

"And  yet,"  he  continued,  "  give  us 
time,  and  men  will  forget  our  origin. 
They  sit  at  their  pianos  daily,  and  none 
remember  the  rude  huntsman's  bow 
with  its  gourd  resonator  twanged 
around  the  camp  fire,  though  the  one  is 
the  child  of  the  other—  " 

"  Listen,  Kongo !  "  she  interrupted. 
"  You  mistake  me.  I  also  am  a  negro 
to  the  world.  I  love  the  negro  race  and 
admire  it.  What  other  people  has  so 
great  a  capacity  for  hard  and  unremit 
ting  labor — for  humble,  uncomplaining 
toil?  Their  weakness  is  their  power. 

117 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Of  such  are  they  who  shall  inherit  the 
earth.  But,  Kongo,  you  have  centuries 
of  slow,  painful  evolution  before  you — 
I  mean  your  race — before  you  shall  be 
where  the  Aryan  is  now.  That  is  what 
mammy  meant.  I  am  ahead  of  you — 
them — by  a  millennium.  I —  " 

"  Scarcely  so  long,"  he  commented. 
"  It  did  not  take  so  many  years  for  the 
despised  Saxons  to  make  their  conquer 
ors  speak  in  their  tongue." 

"  Suppose  it  were  only  a  hundred 
years,  Kongo;  why  should  I  go  back 
ward?  But  I  am  now  where  the  whole 
black  race  will  not  be  for  a  millennium." 

"A  millennium !  "  he  replied,  slowly. 
"  Ten  centuries  only?  And  there  is  no 
lack  of  centuries?  I  pray  God  it  may 
be  a  thousand  millenniums  before  the 
whole  black  race  is  where  you  are!  " 

118 


ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

She  winced.  After  all,  there  was 
something  magnificent  about  this  coal- 
black  fellow. 

They  stood  thoughtfully  now  before 
an  Aryan  home  far  out  Peachtree 
Street.  He  looked  backward  to  where 
the  great  city  lay  in  the  distance;  she, 
upward  into  the  summer  sky.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  one  of  the  stars  which 
seemed  larger  than  many  of  its  com 
panions,  and  very  red  and  fiery.  Her 
lips  twitched  as  she  gazed  at  it  there  a 
long  while  in  silence.  Then  she  reached 
forth  her  hand  and  touched  him  lightly. 

"  See!  "  she  whispered.  "  Its  pitiful, 
terrible  redness  tells  the  story.  You 
asked  me  once  to  prophesy  where  your 
race  would  be  a  thousand  years  from 
now.  A  thousand  years — it  is  but  to 
morrow!  Yonder  in  the  sky  is  a  planet 

119 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

which  has  grown  old  during  the  past 
eternity.  For  the  most  part  it  is  now 
a  glaring,  desert  waste.  Its  inhabitants 
are  in  a  last  death  grapple  with  the  un 
tamed  forces  which  will  surely  end  their 
civilization  before  many  millenniums. 
Water  almost  gone;  atmosphere  atten 
uated  ;  forests,  waterfalls,  rivers,  seas — 
their  children  of  to-day  speak  of  these 
things  as  ours  do  of  the  Paleozoic  Age, 
of  far-past  Devonian  times.  How 
many  races  do  you  suppose  there  are  on 
Mars?  Just  as  many  as  there  shall  be 
on  this  earth  when  its  lowest  ocean  beds 
shall  have  become  the  last  strongholds 
of  a  perishing  civilization — one;  just 
as  many  as  there  will  be  on  this  earth 
before  we  shall  have  to  begin  to  cut  ca 
nals  to  irrigate  our  ancient  sea  bottoms 

with  the  water  from  melted  polar  snows 
120 


ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

— one.  And  why  not?  Why  should 
there  not  be  a  restoration  of  the  primal 
man?  Darwin  crossed  a  Silky  and  a 
Black  Spanish,  and  there  came  forth  a 
jungle  fowl,  the  primitive  type.  Why 
not  with  men  ?  " 

He  laughed  bitterly. 

"Why  not?"  she  urged.  "The 
world  is  round.  All  things  go  here  in 
circles." 

"  You  do  not  understand  the  philoso 
phy  of  their  ethnology,  Lola,"  he  argued, 
thoughtfully.  "  There  is  no  such  thing 
possible  now,  they  say.  Race  develop 
ment  and  consequent  variation  have 
gone  too  far.  One  cannot  obtain  an 
amphibian  by  mating  a  fish  and  a  bird, 
though  they  be  children  of  common  an 
cestors.  Besides — forgive  me,  but  you 

introduced     the     subject — you     should 
121 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

know  the  fatal  physiological  law  that 
will  sooner  or  later  destroy  your  plans 
utterly,  the  law  of  the  diminishing  fer 
tility  of  the— Third  Race.  If  they 
would  long  perpetuate  their  kind,  they 
must  breed  back  to  the  black  fellow  or 
the  white  folk.  You  know,  also,  how 
the  Indian  of  Mexico  is  breeding  out  the 
Spanish  blood,  which  was  alien  to  it, 
and  slowly  reverting  to  the  American 
type.  These  things  I  am  telling  you  are 
laws,  they  say — the  fiats  of  Nature,  who 
would  hold  her  own  in  the  development 
of  the  highest  race  types.  There  will 
be  no  permanent  Third  Race.  The  sub 
stratum  isn't  there.  America  will  be 
black  or  white.  My  own  opinion  is  that 
where  the  Aryan  can  live,  it  will  be 
white ;  where  he  passes  his  climatic  zone 

into  the  negro's  latitude,  it  will  be  black. 
122 


ALSO  A  TEUTON? 

It  will  be  a  question  of  the  will  of  the 
land— "  Mother  Earth/'  you  call  it. 
She  alone  has  the  right  to  choose  be 
tween  black  and  white  father  for  her 
children. 

"Almost,"  she  murmured,  "  thou  per- 
suadest — you  are  a  noble  fellow,  Kongo. 
If  it  wouldn't  seem  so  absurd,  I  should 
like  to  say,  *  God  bless  you ! '  " 

"  But,  Lola,"  he  urged,  tenderly,  "  we 
want  you;  they  despise  you.  I  love 
you,  a  real  woman;  he  fancies  you  are 
another  woman.  I  will  protect  you, 
cherish  you  forever;  he  will  cast  you 
off—" 

"  Cast  me  off !  "  she  exclaimed,  quiv 
ering  from  head  to  foot.  "  Yes,  now ; 
but  not  after — after  we  are  m —  " 

"  Yes,  after  that — after  anything. 
I  tell  it  to  you.  It  is  in  his  blood.  The 

123 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Teutons  have  ever  called  their  children 
by  the  bondwoman  only  progeny! " 

"  Even  if — if  he  did,"  she  murmured ; 
"  am  I  not  also  a— Teuton?  " 

124 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 

"  Mr.  Keough,  shake  hands  with  Mr. 
Elliston,  of  the  Modern  Trend.  Mr.  El- 
liston  is  down  South  for  a  little  study 
of  the  negro  problem  at  first-hand  to 
give  to  his  Northern  constituency.  Do 
you  think  you  could  find  time,  Roy, 
to  show  him  Darktown  and  Jackson 
Row?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Webster,  if  it  is  your 
wish,"  Keough  replied,  readily.  "  How 
long  will  you  be  down,  Mr.  Elliston  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  wanted  to  get  back  day  after 
to-morrow  if  I  could.  You  see,  I  have 
been  writing  this  series  of  articles  on 
the  '  Rights  of  the  Colored  Man/  and  it 
occurred  to  me  last  week  that  a  trip 

127 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

South  might  help  them  along — local 
color  and  all  that,  you  know.  So  I  re 
membered  Henry  here — we  were  college 
mates  at  Harvard — and  just  made  up 
my  mind  to  put  a  whole  day  in  among 
them.  By  the  way,  I  notice  yours  are 
very  much  blacker  than  ours.  Is  it  the 
climate,  do  you  suppose?  " 

Roy  smiled.     Webster  grinned  aloud. 

"  Really,  I  should  have  kept  better 
posted  on  what  was  appearing  in  the 
Trend,"  Roy  answered.  "  I  know  that 
series  will  be  interesting.  But  as  to  the 
color  of  your  Northern  negroes,  I  be 
lieve  it  is  a  slight  difference  in  blood. 
Ours  are  largely  pure.  You  have  to 
come  South  for  the  real  thing  in  ne 
groes.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Web 
ster?" 

"  I  was  just  telling  Elliston  that  when 

128 


ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 

you  came  in,"  Mr.  Webster  replied. 
"Also,  I  suggested  an  automobile  ride  as 
the  best  way  to  learn  their  inner  souls 
and  see  them  in  their  home,"  he  con 
tinued,  with  a  laugh  and  a  wink.  "  He 
was  saying  how  much  he  had  learned 
about  their  domestic  habits  already 
from  the  Pullman  window.  You  see,  in 
an  auto  you  could  go  right  down  to  their 
homes,  give  them  a  quarter,  and  tell 
them  to  talk." 

"  He  would  see  the  domesticated  ones 
in  that  way,  at  the  very  least,"  Roy  sug 
gested. 

"But  the  negro  wild  beast!"  Web 
ster  added,  with  a  tinge  of  irony,  as  if 
to  emphasize  his  words. 

An  employee  entered  his  office  and 
handed  him  a  telegram.  Webster's  fea 
tures  set  hard  and  his  fists  clinched. 

129 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  My  God,  Elliston,  I  wish  you  fellows 
up  New  York  way  had  something  like 
this  once  a  day  on  your  desk  to  hash  up 
for  your  readers!  Listen  here: 

"  Mary  Morris,  fourteen-year-old  daughter  of 
H.  L.  Morris,  one  of  the  most  prominent  busi 
ness  men  of  Atlanta,  and  Lucy  Morris,  her 
aunt,  of  twenty-five  years  of  age,  were  crimi 
nally  assaulted  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  early 
this  morning.  Miss  Lucy  Morris,  with  her 
young  niece,  was  picking  flowers  in  the  woods 
in  sight  of  near-by  homes,  and  had  no  fear, 
since  it  was  in  broad  daylight.  With  their 
hands  full  of  ferns  and  flowers,  they  were  re 
turning  along  an  old  Confederate  breastworks, 
when  a  negro  met  them,  having  a  huge  club  in 
one  hand  and  a  large  rock  in  the  other.  He 
struck  down  the  fourteen-year-old  girl,  leaving 
her  supposedly  senseless,  and  then  yelled  at 
Miss  Morris.  In  a  few  moments  Mary  revived 
and  found  herself  bound  to  a  tree.  The  negro 

stood  over  her. 

130 


ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 

" '  Honey,'  he  said,  '  I  want  you  to  come  with 
me.  I'll  be  kind  to  you;  you  know  I  won't  hurt 
you — ' 

"'I  can't/  Mary  answered;  'my  leg  is 
broken;'  and  she  let  it  hang  limp  to  the 
ground. 

"  The  negro  grinned  and  went  back  to  her 
aunt.  Mary  chose  her  chance,  and,  unbinding 
herself,  ran,  screaming  for  help.  At  this  the 
negro  fled.  Mr.  Morris  arrived  shortly.  He 
found  his  sister  lying  with  her  face  half  buried 
in  the  sand.  All  the  back  of  her  head  was 
beaten  sore  and  bloody.  The  wild  beast  had 
slit  "the  bridge  of  her  nose  wide  open  and  had 
gouged  one  eye  out  of  the  socket.  Mr.  Morris 
is  a  well-known  Atlanta  business  man,  and  his 
sister  and  daughter  have  many  friends  in  the 
city." 

"Now,  Arthur  Elliston,"  Webster 
continued,  handing  the  paper  to  the  vis 
itor,  "  take  that  back  with  you  to  New 
York.  That  is  enough  to  explain  to  my 

131 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

friends  why  I  am  Southern  in  my  senti 
ments  on  this  question  from  A  to  izzard. 
Take  that  back  with  you  and  write  a 
chapter  in  your  series  on  it.  0,  if  you 
only  had  a  few  like  that  in.  New  York, 
all  the  Manhattan  police  couldn't  hold 
back  the  mob,  nor  the  waters  of  the 
Hudson  extinguish  the  torches !  " 

As  he  finished  speaking,  the  shrill 
voice  of  a  newsboy  came  from  the  street 
below : 

"  Here's  your  Commonwealth!  Here's 
your  Evening  Press!  Paper,  mister? 
All  about  the  new  assault !  Paper,  mis 
ter?" 

"Do  you  hear  that  cry,  Elliston?" 
Webster  continued.  "  I  have  heard  it 
every  week  almost  for  months.  It's  be 
ginning  to  get  on  my  nerves.  I've  got 
a  sister  who  stays  alone  with  the  serv- 

132 


ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 

ants  all  day  long  in  my  home;  and,  by 
the  Eternal,  if  they  touch  her,  I'll  blow 
up  Webster  University!"  His  pale- 
blue  eyes  were  afire.  "And  yet  I  have 
half  an  idea  that  it's  just  a  sort  of — 
Nemesis." 

"Nemesis?"  Elliston  asked. 

"Ah,  boys,  I  haven't  said  it  before, 
but,  by  the  Eternal,  what  respect  for 
our  women  can  you  expect  from  another 
race  whose  women  our  blacklegs  have 
deflowered  so  d —  shamelessly?  What 
did  they  know  of  virtue  when,  we 
brought  them  here,  and  who,  in  God's 
name,  should  have  taught  them?  " 

An  office  boy  entered  with  some  un- 
corrected  proof.  Webster  glanced  at 
it  and  saw  his  editorial  matter  for  the 
evening  edition.  A  double-leaded  leader 

133 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

stood  out  boldly  under  its  black  title 
letters : 

"  CLEAN  OUT  THE  DIVES!  CLOSE  UP 
THE  SALOONS!  THE  PRESENT  CRISIS 
CANNOT  LAST  MUCH  LONGER!  ABOVE 
ALL,  KEEP  COOL  !  " 

"  Those  are  my  sentiments,  Elliston," 
he  continued.  "  I  didn't  add,  *  Shoot 
down  the  wild  beast  at  sight/  I  hope 
to  my  God  I  will  never  say  it.  I  hope 
we  will  never  come  in  this  country  to 
burning  their  dens  out  as  you  do  in  the 
North.  But  what  about  your  automo 
bile  ride?  If  you  go  in  the  right  direc 
tion,  you  may  see  a  lynching." 

The  office  boy  came  back  bearing  a 
card  in  his  hand,  and  gave  it  to  Roy 
Keough. 

"  The  lady  says  she  will  wait  for  you 
in  her  automobile." 

134 


ANOTHER  JOURNALIST  ARRIVES. 

Keough  took  up  the  card  and  scanned 
it  hurriedly. 

"  Miss  Lawson,"  he  read  aloud,  me 
chanically. 

Also  scribbled  hastily  on  the  side : 
"  Come  as  quickly  as  you  can." 
"  If  it  is  an  automobile  she  is  in," 
Webster  suggested,  "  perhaps  Mr.  Ellis- 
ton's  company  would  not  be  disagreea 
ble.     You  could  put  him  in  front  and  let 
him  talk  to  the  chauffeur.     I  believe  Dr. 
Lawson's  driver  is  a  negro,  is  he  not?  " 
"  Not  a  bad  idea  at  all,"  Keough  ex 
plained.     "  Come,   Mr.   Elliston,  off  to 
Darktown !  " 

135 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  PROBLEM  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  PROBLE.M  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 

"  What  I  can  quite  understand,"  Mr. 
Elliston  said,  as  they  drove  off,  "  is  the 
feeling  of  personal  repugnance  you  have 
for  the  negro,  and  the  negro  for  you 
also;  but  I  don't  see  why  that  should  af 
fect  your  politics." 

"  Nor  why  the  races  should  be  sepa 
rated  on  the  street  cars,  railways, 
churches,  elevators,  etc.  That  is  what 
you  are  going  to  say,  isn't  it?"  Miss 
Lawson  questioned. 

"  Only  partly,"  Elliston  continued. 
"  I  wanted  your  view  point  badly  enough 
to  come  a  thousand  miles  for  it.  I  want 
to  know  where  the  line  stops,  so  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  a  very  pointed  ques- 

139 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

tion.  If  a  nice  black  fellow,  with  plenty 
of  education,  refinement,  etc. —  " 

"And  money,"  Keough  put  in. 

"  Well,  I  say  if  such  a  fellow  were  to 
fall  in  love  with  one  of  the  ordinary 
white  working  girls —  " 

"  0,  put  it  the  other  way!  "  Miss  Law- 
son  suggested.  "  If  a  white  man  of 
ordinary,  etc." 

"Well,  that  will  do  then,"  Elliston 
continued.  "  Suppose  there  were  a  girl 
— practically  white — with  the  'one 
drop/  as  you  call  it,  in  her  veins;  and 
suppose  she  were  perfectly  honest,  vir 
tuous,  well  educated,  and  in  every  way  a 
lady,  and  a  young  white  man  were  to 
fall  in  love  with  her  without  knowing  of 
her  *  drop/  and  later  found  it  out — he 
being  a  Southerner — now  what  would 

140 


THE  PROBLEM  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 

he  do?  What  would  he  do,  Miss  Law- 
son?" 

"  Really,"  she  answered,  while  her 
heart  beat  violently,  "  Mr.  Keough 
should  answer  you." 

The  question — at  last — how  she  had 
longed  to  put 'it  to  him!  She  trembled 
now,  lest  some  mischance  should  pre 
vent  his  answering  it — and  lest  he 
should  answer  it. 

The  question? 

"  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Keough?  " 

"Well,"  Roy  replied,  slowly,  "it  is 
very  hard  to  say.  I  should  think,  how 
ever,  that  if  he  had  grown  tired  of  her 
at  all,  he  would  leave  her  and  sink  him 
self  in  a  new  country;  if  he  loved  her, 
he  would  probably  make  his  peace  with 
God  and  blow  his  brains  out." 

The   woman    looked   mistily   to    the 

141 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

right,  and  the  New  York  journalist  drew 
out  his  notebook. 

"  View  point  the  same  as  that  of  nice 
Northern  people,"  he  wrote. 

"  Mr.  Webster  told  me  of  a  beautiful 
picture  a  lady  graduate  of  his  school 
painted,"  Elliston  continued.  "  I  be 
lieve  it  is  called  '  THE  END.'  I  guess 
you  know  its  motif?  What's  become  of 
the  girl?  Really,  I'd  like  to  meet  her." 

"To  see  her?"  Miss  Lawson  sug 
gested.  "  Really,  Mr.  Elliston — you 
will  not  think  me  rude — all  such  are 
without  the  pale  in  the  South;  they  be 
long  to  the  world  we  never  mention." 

It  was  neatly  done,  Roy  thought. 

Luckily,  they  were  already  on  the  out 
skirts  of  Darktown. 

"  It  is  only  fair  to  say,"  Miss  Lawson 

142 


THE  PROBLEM  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 

suggested,  "  that  this  is  not  the  Fifth 
Avenue  of  the  colored  section. " 

"Right,"  Keough  added.  "There 
are  parts  of  Atlanta  where  the  best  ne 
groes  lives.  There  are  neat  homes,  and 
their  inmates  are  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
But  look  at  this!" 

Squalid  misery — ill-odored  poverty — 
dirt — filth — full  cabins — an  air  stench- 
laden,  reeking  with  disease — crowded 
with  the  negro  poor,  whose  black  brood 
played  ill  clad — half  naked  in  the  door 
ways,  overflowed  into  the  streets  and 
filled  them  with  more  filth,  more  disease, 
more  stench. 

"  Say,  let's  take  a  little  spin  in  the 
country  before  it  gets  too  dark,"  Ellis- 
ton  suggested. 

Keough  smiled. 

"  What  are  you  interested  in  them 

143 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

for,  anyway?"  Miss  Lawson  asked. 
"  Do  you  think  they  are  people?  " 

"  Unfairly  put,  Miss  Lawson,"  Roy 
laughed. 

"Why,  yes,"  Elliston  answered,  "I 
think  they  are  people,  a  distinct  people, 
and—  " 

"  What  of  them?  "  she  asked,  when  he 
paused.  "What  is  their  future?  Are 
you  arguing  for  amalgamation  in  your 
articles?" 

"  So  far  as  I  know,"  Elliston  replied, 
with  curious  sadness,  "  the  yellowest  of 
our  abominable  yellow  journals  would 
not  stand  for  such  a  series  of  articles 
as  that.  There  is  a  wonderful  store  of 
mischievous  misinformation  about  the 
North  even  in  Atlanta,"  he  continued. 
"  Webster  was  talking  about  the  Third 
Race.  Northern  men  don't  want  one, 

144 


THE  PROBLEM  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 

and  are  not  afraid  that  there  will  ever 
be  one.  We've  no  idea  of  marrying  ne 
groes,  despite  the  hysterics  of  your 
melodramatic  novels,  nor  of  marrying 
Turks  nor  Chinese;  and  we  do  not  ex 
pect  our  Southern  friends  to  do  so.  We 
don't  see  many  negroes,  and  those  that 
we  do  see  are  as  decent  as  very  many 
of  the  European  immigrants  who 
swarm  in  on  us  every  year.  We  have 
a  hydra-headed  race  problem  of  our 
own,  very  different  from  yours  in  the 
South.  Some  of  the  aspects  of  the  lat 
ter  are  so  unfamiliar  to  me  as  hardly 
to  seem  real.  We  can't  feel  about  them 
as  you  do !  " 

"A  hundred  years  ago,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  one-seventh  of  the  globe  was 
white;  to-day,  one-half;  to-morrow — 
what  is  the  use  of  fooling  with  them 

145 

10 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

at  all?  Down  South  here  we  see  their 
numbers  constantly  decreasing  in  com 
parison  with  us." 

"  Decreasing?  Why,  I  thought  they 
were  taking  the  country!  "  Elliston  ex 
claimed. 

"  One  white  man,"  she  replied,  "  has 
accumulated  more  wealth  since  the  war 
than  the  whole  race  of  ten  million"  of 
them.  And  as  for  numbers,  did  you 
know  South  Carolina's  negro  population 
increased  only  one-fourth  as  much,  pro 
portionately,  during  the  last  decade  as 
Pennsylvania's  or  Massachusetts'?  1 
believe  Tennessee's  didn't  increase  at  all, 
did  it,  Mr.  Keough?" 

"  She  is  pretty  nearly  correct,  Mr. 
Elliston.  Philadelphia,  Washington, 
and  Baltimore  are  the  largest  negro 
cities  of  the  hemisphere.  But  here  we 

146 


THE  PROBLEM  FROM  A  TONNEAU. 

are  at  the  Commonwealth  Building.  I 
shall  look  out  for  your  articles,  Mr.  El- 
liston." 

The  New  York  journalist  vanished  to 
ward  the  elevator. 

"It  is  really  a  pity  to  stop  now, 
Mr.  Keough,"  Miss  Lawson  suggested. 
"  See,  the  moonlight  has  just  come.  Do 
you  not  love  the  moonlight  enough  for  a 
spin  to  the  country?  " 

He  thought  of  his  unfinished  "  Song 
and  Story."  It  would  be  the  first  time 
he  had  left  it  for  any  man  or  woman. 

"  If  you  go,  I  go  with  you,"  he  an 
swered. 

He  entered  the  car  then,  and  the 
driver  started  out  Peachtree  at  a  merry 
clip. 

"To  Oakdale,  Will,"  she  whispered, 

147 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

standing  to  adjust  her  wraps,  "  for  the 
9: 30  train." 

Then  to  Keough — 

"  How  far  would  you  go  with  me?  " 
she  ventured. 

He  turned  and  looked.  Her  eyes 
were  full  upon  him,  and  the  lights 
showed  a  compelling  loveliness  in  her 
face.  She  was  leaning  forward  as  if  his 
answer  meant  something  to  her. 

He  took  her  hand  gently  in  his,  and 
whispered : 

"  To  the  end  of  the  King's  Highway !  " 

"Ah,  glorious  cup !  "  she  murmured, 
so  low  that  he  heard  nothing.  "  I  will 
drink  of  thee  to-night — drink  deep  of 
thee — if  I  die  to-morrow !  " 

148 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  PACK  FORMS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  PACK  FORMS. 

The  black  man  paused  upon  the 
threshold.  Should  he  really  go  in, 
after  all?  His  anger  still  burned  with 
in  him,  and  the  fierce-flamed  love  for 
the  Third-Race  woman.  To  learn  of 
her  whereabouts,  to  force  this  ignoble 
father  of  hers  to  divulge  them — that 
was  the  only  course  left  him.  By  every 
right  of  priority  she  belonged  to  him. 
What  though  the  Commonwealth  re 
porter  had  carried  her  away?  It  was  a 
deathly  deception.  She  was  pardona 
ble.  Who  could  resist  an  invitation  into 
the  glow  of  the  White  Circle?  But  the 
white  man  would  not  pardon  her.  He 
would  bellow  with  rage  and  drive  her 

151 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

forth  to  find  a  mate  among  the  black 
people.  What  a  mad,  mad  course  she 
was  on!  How  awful  her  doom  when 
discovered!  Perhaps,  too,  the  white 
man  knew,  and  only  wanted  another 
mistress.  God !  how  his  heart  throbbed ! 
There  was  no  longer  any  hesitation  in 
his  steps.  He  opened  the  door  abruptly. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  the  maid  ?  "  a 
waiting  patient  asked. 

"  No,  madam ;  I  have  come  to  see  Dr. 
Lawson.  If  the  maid  is  near — here 
is  my  card." 

The  negro  girl  had  seen  the  new 
comer. 

"  These  are  Dr.  Lawson's  office 
hours,"  she  said,  as  softly  as  possible. 
"  You  know  he  confines  his  practice  en 
tirely  to  whites.  You  might  see  him 

152 


THE  PACK  FORMS. 

for  a  moment  when  he  goes  to  lunch,  or 
call  at  his  back  door  to-night." 

"  I  will  see  him  now.  Kindly  say  to 
him  that  a  man  who  will  not  be  put  off 
waits  for  him  at  the  door." 

The  negro  woman  stood  back  amazed. 

"He  is  stark  mad!"  she  ejaculated, 
and  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

Kongo  waited  for  a  moment — long 
enough  for  her  to  have  returned,  long 
enough  for  Dr.  Lawson  to  have  excused 
himself  from  his  patient — and  then 
stepped  boldly  into  the  elegant  waiting 
room  of  Atlanta's  greatest  dentist. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  Dr.  Lawson,"  he 
commenced,  in  a  steady  voice,  to  the 
maid,  "  and  I  will  see  him." 

There  was  something  about  his  look, 
some  reminder  of  the  avenger  who  came 
forth  from  his  wrong  to  kill,  that  made 

153 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

a  timid  woman  patient  by  the  window 
shriek  aloud. 

In  a  moment  Dr.  Lawson  stood  smil 
ing  in  the  doorway  between  his  operat 
ing  room  and  his  parlors. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  a  moment,  Dr. 
Lawson,"  Copelin  said,  calmly.  "  We 
have  business  together  of  a  sort  that 
may  not  be  put  off." 

It  took  the  dentist  a  moment  to  under 
stand. 

"Are  you  the  cause  of  all  this  commo 
tion  ?  "  he  then  asked. 

"  No,"  Kongo  replied ;  "  you  are.  But 
I  should  rather  finish  what  I  have  to  say 
in  private." 

"  What  is  your  name,  man,  and  what 
do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  seeing  no 
point  to  it  all. 

The  fierce  flames  of  a  life's  passion 

154 


THE  PACK  FORMS. 

vibrated  in  the  voice  of  the  negro  pro 
fessor  as  he  replied : 

"  My  name  is  Kongo  Copelin.  I  love 
your  daughter.  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
where  she  is.  I  have  a  right  to  ask  it,** 
he  continued,  while  the  dazed  dentist 
gazed  on  him  in  amazement.  "  She  is 
my  promised  wife,  even  if  she  has  run 
away  with  Roy  Keough." 

Then  he  understood. 

The  light  began  to  glow  in  his  eyes, 
his  muscles  twitched,  his  teeth  set,  his 
hands  clinched,  his  jaws  gripped  one 
another,  knowing  well  it  was  too  late 
for  words.  The  negro  professor  had 
come  unarmed,  save  by  a  righteous 
cause;  and  when  he  saw  death  glaring 
at  him,  reached  back  for  his  penknife. 
The  dentist  fairly  trembled  with  rage. 
He  did  not  see  the  negro  reach  back  for 


155 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

his  knife.  His  whole  powerful  body 
prepared  itself  in  ligament,  bone,  and 
muscle  for  the  spring  of  a  wild  animal 
that  hated  and  would  kill! 

The  two  men  clashed.  The  dentist 
fell  heavily  to  the  floor.  A  red  stream 
spurted  from  his  breast. 

A  half  dozen  lady  patients  shrieked 
as  he  fell.  The  negro  maid  trembled 
as  she  thought  of  its  awful  meaning,  as 
she  heard  the  white  pack  at  the  heels 
of  the  "  negro  wild  beast." 

Then  Copelin  rose  from  the  floor,  only 
half  understanding  what  he  had  done. 
He  had  not  meant  to  do  this  thing — 
only  to  avenge  publicly  the  shame  of  a 
woman  of  his  people.  He  saw  the  red 
pool  on  the  floor  and  the  white  face  be 
neath  him.  His  instincts,  the  instincts 
of  the  black  folk  who  had  striven  and 

156 


THE  PACK  FORMS. 

slain  in  the  jungle  for  untold  genera 
tions,  took  hold  of  him. 

With  a  wild  moan  of  terror,  he  fled. 

Out  into  the  streets  first  he  ran, 
guided  by  the  ancient  instincts,  on  to 
ward  the  busy  triangle  before  Silver- 
man's  Corner — on — on — with  one  word 
upon  his  lips — Decatur  Street! 

A  white  man  saw  him  and  called : 

"Stop,  thief!" 

The  woman  who  had  screamed  called 
down  from  the  window: 

"  He's  a  murderer !  Arrest  him 
quick!  He  has  killed  Dr.  Lawson!  " 

The  negro  maid  looked  out  and  meas 
ured  the  distance  with  her  eye. 

"  He's  running  for  one  of  the  dives," 
she  said.  "  He's  got  a  good  lead ;  he 
may  make  it.  God  have  mercy  on  us 
all!" 

157 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Then  the  white  pack  began  to  form. 
A  policeman  took  the  runner  and  his  er 
rand  in  at  a  glance. 

"Stop  him!  Head  him  off!  He's 
making  for  the  dives !  "  he  called. 

But  Kongo  had  heard,  he,  the  son 
of  jungle  men — the  dim  memories  of 
a  thousand  ancestors  who  had  fled  from 
the  pack  drove  him  on — on — 

Another  policeman  fired,  but  put  up 
his  pistol  as  he  saw  the  crowded  streets. 
The  shot  brought  a  score  of  men  who 
followed  the  runner  in  close  pursuit. 

But  the  man  ran  unincumbered  by 
numbers — single — he  knew  where — 
ran  as  a  man  would  run  for  his  life, 
with  the  yelping  of  the  pack  at  his  heels. 

In  a  moment  he  had  reached  Decatur 
Street,  in  another  he  had  sprung  into  a 
barroom  door,  in  a  few  more  he  was  out 

158 


THE  PACK  FORMS. 

at  the  back  door  and  into  another — 
among  his  fellows,  scores  of  them,  who 
understood. 

A  glance  told  the  story.  He  was  hid 
safely  away  in  a  jiffy. 

The  pack  yelped  at  the  dive  their 
quarry  had  entered,  battered  down  the 
door,  then  fairly  bellowed  with  baffled 
anger  as  they  found  he  was  not  there. 

But  another  negro  man  suddenly 
sprang,  seemingly  terrified,  from  a  side 
room  and  fled  down  the  street. 

The  pack  followed;  a  policeman  fired 
and  missed.  The  negro  fairly  flew 
down  Decatur  Street. 

The  jungle  men  who  had  hid  Copelin 
away  looked  after  him  and  muttered : 

"  It's  Jackson ;  he  saved  Will  Johnson 
twice.  He's  a  good  'un !  " 

Then,  when  the  pack  had  almost  de- 

159 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

spaired  of  the  pursuit,  the  quarry  sud 
denly  stumbled  and  fell.  In  a  moment 
they  were  on  him.  A  policeman 
grabbed  him  by  the  collar. 

"  Don't  touch  him,  boys!  The  law'll 
get  him  quick  enough.  He's  as  good  as 
a  dead  'un  now !  " 

So  they  bore  him  back  in  triumph  to 
the  jail. 

The  captured  jungle  man  said  no 
word. 

"  By  George,  boys/'  cried  one  of  the 
best  runners  among  the  pursuers,  "  we 
were  lucky  to  get  him.  Forty  saloons 
on  Decatur  Street!  Twenty-five  hun 
dred  nigger  loafers  in  them !  Who'd  'a' 
thought  it?" 

Then  he  gave  Jackson  a  cuff. 

"You  d— n  black  beast!"  he  said. 
"  You  didn't  get  to  hide  this  time!  " 

160 


CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  LAIR. 


11 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  LAIR. 

When  the  noise  and  the  tumult  were 
over  and  the  dust  had  settled  again  in 
the  highway,  the  door  behind  which 
Kongo  Copelin  had  hid  was  opened  soft 
ly,  and  the  prisoner  was  told  that  he 
might  now  come  out  with  safety. 

"  Have  they  gone  already? "  he 
queried. 

"  Yeah ;  we  got  'em  fooled.  Say, 
what'd  you  do?" 

But  Kongo  was  too  surprised  to  notice 
the  question. 

"  Why,  I  have  been  momentarily  ex 
pecting  them  to  break  down  the  door. 
What  did  you  do  to  get  them  away?  " 

"  Same  old  thing — swapped  horses  an' 

163 


THE  LAW  OP  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

got  'em  on  'nother  man's  trail.  Ed 
Jackson  saved  yer.  They  got  him  in 
the  '  Black  Maria  '  now.  Say,  you're  an 
eddicated  nigger,  ain't  yer?  What  in 
the  h — 1  you  doin'  down  here  with  us?  " 

"  I  had  a  fight  with  a  white  man," 
Copelin  replied,  "  and  I  killed  him.  I 
could  think  of  nowhere  else  to  come. 
Can  you  hide  me  for  a  while?  " 

"  That's  sho'  our  job,"  the  "  proprie 
tor  "  assured  him.  "  We  hid  Bill  Am- 
mons  long  enough.  He's  got  twelve 
white  women  already.  Wus'n  Will 
Johnson,  ain't  he?" 

Copelin  shuddered.  This  was  a 
stratum  of  his  race  of  which  he,  though 
a  negro,  knew  nothing.  They  were  the 
jungle  men,  the  wild  beasts  who  could 
not  be  tamed.  Like  their  legendary  an 
cestors,  they  had  gone  back  into  the  f  or- 

164 


THE  LAIR. 

est  and  turned  again  into  gorilla-men. 
He  looked  upon  the  "  proprietor,"  with 
his  padded  lips;  his  filthy,  kinky  head; 
his  stealthy,  animal  tread ;  and  noted  the 
wild  look  of  the  untamable  in  his  coal- 
black  eyes  and  the  distended  nostrils 
which  long  centuries  had  fashioned  so 
that  by  odor  his  life  might  be  saved 
whose  wit  had  failed. 

"  I  done  a  few  stunts  myse'f,"  the 
"  proprietor  "  continued.  "  I  killed  a 
white  man  in  South  C'liny.  Slid  out  for 
Alabam;  got  a  white  woman  out  there. 
Come  back  to  Atlanta.  This  town's  the 
best  'un  to  hide  in  I  ever  saw.  Niggers 
sticks  together,  and  don't  peach  none  on 
nobody.  There's  old  Garrabrant  out 
there  at  the  bar.  If  these  d — n  white 
p'licemen  knowed  he  was  down  here, 
they'd  burn  up  Decatur  Street.  Pard- 

165 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

ner,  you  look  kinder  sheety.  Come  on 
an'  have  a  drink." 

To  this,  then,  he — Kongo  Copelin — 
had  descended.  To  these  jungle  men 
he  was  indebted  for  his  life.  They  had 
counted  him  as  a  brother,  and  so  in 
stinctively  protected  him.  Yet  he 
loathed  them  and  all  their  kind. 

The  "  proprietor  "  led  him  out  to  the 
bar.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  was  in  the  jungle  again.  A  for 
est  of  black,  animal  faces  gazed  at  him, 
some  with  drunken  leers. 

"  Sporty  nigger,"  one  remarked. 
"  What'dhedo?" 

"  Killed  a  white  man,  the  '  prop/ 
says." 

"  Nearly  got  him,  didn't  they?  " 

"  Sho'  did.  He's  the  fourth  come  in 
this  week." 

166 


THE  LAIR. 

"  Coin'  ter  be  trouble,  too.  Too  many 
of  'em  comin'.  Seen  the  Press  to-day? 
Look  a-here !  " 

The  speaker  drew  out  a  copy  of  the 
Evening  Press,  whose  extra  was  being 
cried  on  the  street,  and  read  from  the 
editorial  columns : 

"  No  law  of  God  or  man  can  hold  back  the 
vengeance  of  our  white  men  upon  such  a  crimi 
nal.  If  necessary,  we  will  double  and  treble 
and  quadruple  the  law  of  Moses  and  hang  off 
hand  the  criminal;  or,  failing  to  find  that  a 
remedy,  we  will  hang  two,  three,  or  four  of  the 
negroes  nearest  to  the  crime,  until  it  is  no 
longer  feared  in  all  this  Southern  land  that  we 
inhabit  and  love." 

"Good  God!  Dey  ain't  talkin'  dat 
way  'bout  killin'  a  white  man,  is  dey?  " 

"  Naw !  Will  Johnson's  got  another 
white  woman !  " 

167 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  How  many  nigger  women  has  these 
d — n  po'  white  trash  got?  Where'd  he 
go?" 

"  Down  the  street,  then  back  here. 
He's  in  the  '  prop.'s  '  room." 

Copelin  heard  their  words  and  shud 
dered.  He  was  a  negro,  but  not  such  a 
one  as  these.  He  was  a  negro  man — a 
gentleman,  as  were  most  of  his  race. 

But  they  were  types  of  the  NEGRO 
WILD  BEAST. 

And  he  had  been  saved  by  fleeing  to 
their  lair. 

For  very  exhaustion's  sake  he  drank 
the  whisky  the  "  prop."  gave  him,  and 
looked  about  him.  "  Black-faced  ani 
mals  " — he  could  call  them  nothing  else 
— crowded  around  the  bar,  mingling 
snatches  of  old  plantation  songs,  rem 
nants  of  better  days,  with  curses  and 

168 


THE  LAIR. 

filthy  jokes.  He  finally  sat  down  almost 
unnoticed  in  a  chair  to  think.  Then  he 
noticed  a  curious  thing.  Whether  they 
stood  or  sat,  these  chronic  criminals 
turned  their  eyes  steadily  in  one  direc 
tion,  and  it  was  not  toward  the  door. 

"  Here's  to  her  health! "  he  heard  a 
drunken  vagrant  shout. 

At  that  he  saw  the  great  majority 
look  upward  at  a  picture  on  the  wall. 
He  followed  their  gaze. 

He  saw  THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  LAIR. 

It  was  a  large  chromo,  suggestively 
colored,  showing  a  nude  white  woman 
lying  under  a  tree  upon  the  leaves  oi 
the  forest.  Around  and  on  the  other 
sides — in  fact,  everywhere  about  the 
walls — there  were  other  smaller  pic 
tures  of  similar  suggestiveness ;  but  this 
one  was  so  gorgeously  colored,  so  life- 

169 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

like  in  size  and  seeming,  that  these  jun 
gle  men  looked  at  it  and  feasted  theii 
eyes  upon  it.  To  them  it  was  all.  It 
was  sometimes  called  "  Social  Equality," 
sometimes  "  Criminal  Assault,"  some 
times  by  other  names ;  but  these  animals 
of  the  forest  saw  names  and  distinc 
tions  but  dimly.  They  only  knew  that 
whisky  fired  the  passions  of  hell  within 
them,  and  "The  Queen  of  the  Lair" 
gave  visions  of  heaven. 

Copelin  looked  at  the  picture  and  then 
at  the  passion-lit  eyes  of  these  outcast 
men,  and  forgot  that  he  was  a  man- 
slayer. 

"  Great  merciful  Jesus ! "  he  ex 
claimed.  "And  these  are  my  people! 
Why  do  not  white  men  see — why  can't 
they  know  where  and  how  the  peaceful, 
unoffending  negro  man  is  turned  into 

170 


THE  LAIR. 

the  passion-driven  beast  of  the  jun 
gle? " 

Then  he  remembered  the  words  of  the 
Third-Race  girl,  the  beautiful  woman 
whom  he  had  accounted  his : 

"What  would  you  do?  If  not  one- 
tenth  part  of  your  blood  were  negro, 
and  that  not  of  an  ignoble  strain;  if, 
when  dissociated  from  negroes,  men 
counted  you  white ;  if  your  training  and 
ambitions  and  education  all  identified 
you  with  the  White  Circle,  would  you 
want  to  be  called  '  nigger?  '  Would  you 
allow  your  life  to  be  forced  back  with 
the  jungle  people?  " 

She  had  said  that,  and  he  had  not  till 
now  understood. 

But  as  he  looked  around  him  at  the 
sodden  ignorance,  the  reeking  filth,  the 

171 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

blatant  crime,  the  bestial  animality,  he 
understood. 

He  had  seen  the  NEGRO  WILD  BEAST. 

All  the  while  that  he  studied  their 
faces  there  was  in  his  mind  a  subdued 
consciousness  as  of  the  falling  of  a 
mighty  cataract  or  the  roaring  of  a  wind 
through  the  forest.  Little  by  little  he 
cam'e  to  hear  it.  When  at  last  the  full 
noise  burst  upon  his  ear,  he  noticed  a 
considerable  diminution  in  the  sea  of 
black  faces  that  had  thronged  the  dive. 
Also  the  "  proprietor "  was  hastening 
nervously  here  and  there,  muttering 
something  to  himself. 

"Too  many  of  'em  at  last!  D — n 
such  luck !  "  Copelin  heard. 

"  It's  a  raid,  sho's  gun's  iron !  "  a 
watcher  shouted  from  the  street. 

"  Better  git  into  your  closet  or  hide 

172 


THE  LAIR. 

out  there,  you — you  eddicated  nigger!  " 
the  "  prop."  called. 

"  De  whole  d — n  po-lees  is  a-comin' !  " 
yelled  the  man  from  the  street.  "  Fse 
gwine  to  shine  my  greasy !  " 

A  moment  later  a  rock  smashed 
through  the  window  and  shivered  half 
a  dozen  bottles  on  the  bar. 

"  It's  a  d — n  sight  wuss'n  a  raid," 
the  "  prop."  muttered ;  "  it's  a  mob!  " 

173 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  RIOT. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  RIOT. 

For  centuries  the  unclean  rivers  pour 
their  mud  and  silt  into  the  bosom  of  the 
fair-faced  sea.  Slowly  does  their  bur 
den  accumulate  along  the  coast  line. 
All  the  while  the  pressure  grows  more 
tense,  and  the  heat  lines  of  the  inner 
earth  rise  toward  the  surface.  Then 
there  comes  a  day,  fair,  perhaps,  and 
unoffending,  as  that  eventful  day  of  Sep 
tember  came  to  Atlanta,  when  the  ten 
sion  becomes  too  great,  the  subsurface 
heat  too  fierce,  and  a  fearful  collapse 
follows.  The  volcano  belches,  the  calm 
surface  of  things  becomes  a  pandemo 
nium  of  terror,  the  fountains  of  the  un 
known  deep  are  broken  up,  and  over  all 

177 

12 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

there  broods  a  horror  of  great  darkness. 
But  from  it,  and  eventually  towering 
over  it  all,  there  rises  the  eternal  moun 
tain  peak  linked  hand  in  hand  with  his 
brothers. 

It  was  so  with  Atlanta  on  September 
22,  1906.  Years  before  there  had  been 
a  day  in  her  history  when  the  order  she 
loved  and  founded  had  passed  into  a 
new  order;  and  that  she  might  remem 
ber  it,  Sherman  baptized  her  with  fire. 
While  the  ancient  order  lasted — let  this 
be  said  to  those  who  curse  it — her 
women  were  safe  and  her  daughters 
knew  no  fear.  With  a  singular  lack  of 
foresight  and  a  carelessness  which,  un- 
excused  by  ignorance,  was  criminal,  the 
men  who  founded  the  republic  of  which 
she  was  a  part  had  sent  into  the  Afri 
can  jungle  and  hunted  down  the  savages 

178 


THE  RIOT. 

there,  to  fetch  them  for  labor  in  the 
New  World.  The  ineffaceable  sadness 
of  the  hunted  thing,  line  bred  for  a 
thousand  generations,  was  in  their  eyes. 
They  blinked  at  the  light  of  the  White 
Circle  at  first,  and  wondered  why  they 
must  now  be  taught  new  games  to 
play  at.  Guarded  and  controlled,  they 
learned  to  do  the  heavy  work  of  the 
South,  until  the  chisels  and  saws  and 
hammers  and  hoes  were  all  held  by 
black  hands,  from  the  Potomac  to  the 
Rio  Grande.  They  were  dressed  like 
men  and  taught  to  do  work  like  them, 
and  at  last  they  became  men ;  and  after 
a  while  along  came  the  good  doctrine  of 
the  universal  brotherhood  of  man,  its 
coat  tails  tightly  gripped  by  manhood 
suffrage.  Followed  liberty.  There 
after  most  still  reached  out  their  hands 

179 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

and  clung  to  white  men.  Some  few 
went  back  into  the  jungle. 

From  the  shadows  of  their  forest 
night  these  last  came  forth  as  passion 
drove,  and  ever  with  increasing  fre 
quency.  The  white  South  saw  it  and 
brushed  away  the  tormenting  prophet, 
saying:  "It  will  be  all  right!"  The 
black  gentlemen  of  the  South  saw  it,  and 
cried :  "  God  save  us !  "  Atlanta  saw 
it,  and  knew  it  would  be  her  part  who 
led  the  race  to  suffer  first. 

For  months  before  the  explosion  came 
the  nervous  tension  of  the  city  had 
steadily  augmented.  There  had  been 
story  after  story  of  how  the  beast  had 
come  forth  from  his  lair  and  glutted  his 
passion  upon  white  women.  All  this 
was  in  the  papers.  But  the  unnamable 
terror  of  the  black  women  was  not, 

180 


THE  RIOT. 

though  they,  too,  suffered.  Men  had 
turned  sick  at  reading  the  details,  know 
ing  the  unmentionable  things  that  were 
never  printed.  A  school-teacher,  per 
haps,  passing  in  the  evening  on  her  way 
home  from  a  country  school,  waylaid 
and  assaulted!  A  man  murdered  at 
night  as  he  lay  in  his  bed,  and  unspeak 
able  horrors  perpetrated  upon  his  wife 
and  daughter!  These  things  Atlanta 
saw,  while  her  blood  boiled  within  her. 

Steadily  they  grew  more  frequent, 
and  were  accompanied  with  greater 
boldness  and  horrors,  until  the  beast 
feared  not  to  attack  his  victims  in  the 
city  itself.  Woman  after  woman,  girl 
after  girl,  child  after  child,  the  jungle 
men  assaulted ;  and  even  the  babes  were 
not  exempt. 

At  last  it  could  be  stood  no  longer. 

181 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

Another    straw    and    the    back    was 
broken. 

Then  came  a  deed  of  horror.  A  man 
of  Yankee  descent  had  brought  his 
young  wife  South  and  built  her  a  little 
home  at  the  edge  of  a  pine  grove  near 
the  city.  One  morning  a  jungle  man 
came  to  the  home,  prying  about  it  as  a 
wild  beast  would  look  at  the  house  its 
quarry  had  built.  The  man  spoke  to 
him,  and  the  negro  asked  some  silly 
question  in  response.  The  woman  and 
her  husband  were  worried;  for  though 
they  had  lived  only  four  years  in  the 
South,  the  horror  of  the  great  darkness 
had  fallen  near  enough  to  them  for  all 
to  know  its  terrors.  Yet  the  man  must 
needs  go  away  to  his  work,  for  only  by 
his  labor  could  they  get  along  in  the 
world.  The  nearest  neighbor  was  to 

182 


THE  RIOT. 

keep  an  eye  open  for  the  beast.  The 
man  went.  Returning,  he  found  scores 
of  white  men  in  his  yard.  He  knew 
that  the  jungle  man  had  come  and  gone 
on  his  passion-driven  errand.  He  had 
fled,  and  the  woman  could  give  no  accu 
rate  description  of  him. 

Those  who  gathered  there  before  that 
little  green  cottage  knew  then  that  the 
storm  had  gathered. 

So  when  the  next  morning  had  come, 
and  no  word  of  the  capture  of  the  ne 
gro  wild  beast  with  it,  men  left  pistols 
in  the  hands  of  their  wives  at  home; 
and  the  telephones  kept  ringing,  lest  all 
might  not  be  well.  The  normal  gayety 
of  the  city  was  gone,  and  an  ominous 
quiet  had  come  in  its  stead.  Those  who 
talked  little  were  silent  altogether,  and 
the  garrulous  spoke  almost  in  whispers. 

183 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

The  police  force  was  to  be  doubled  on 
October  1;  this  was  only  September  22. 
Perhaps  even  that  would  avail  but  little. 

And  pitiful  was  the  terror  by  day  and 
night  of  the  sober  mass  of  law-abiding 
black  people — afraid  of  the  rapists  of 
their  own  race  and  the  rioters  of  the 
other. 

Saturday  afternoon  came  and  found 
the  eternal  crowd  before  Silverman's 
Corner  swelled  by  hundreds  of  farmers 
and  country  folk  who  had  come  to  town 
for  the  week-end  shopping.  Also,  it 
was  still  summer  in  Atlanta,  and  the 
half  holiday  had  poured  out  its  thou 
sands  into  the  streets. 

In  the  early  afternoon  there  came  the 
first  terror  cry,  and,  to  those  who  had 
heard  it  in  fear  before,  it  was  like  the 
hacking  cough  of  a  little  babe  at  night 

184 


THE  RIOT. 

to  an  anxious  mother — a  cough  that  no 
medicine  could  stop. 

"Another  assault!" 

The  newsboys  took  up  the  cry,  and 
handed  the  extra  out  to  the  trembling 
hands. 

"Paper,  mister?  Paper?  All  about 
another  assault !  " 

The  papers  were  quickly  scattered 
and  read,  and  a  "  hillbilly,"  with  a  little 
mustache  growing  on  the  end  of  his  red 
nose,  but  whose  wife  was  alone  in  their 
little  home  in  the  piny  woods  ten  miles 
away,  muttered  to  himself : 

«  D— n  'em!  They're  a  lot  of  hell-lit 
beasts!" 

His  neighbor  heard  and  volubly  ap 
proved. 

"  We  are  goin'  to  have  to  exterminate 
'em  yet,"  he  said. 

185 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Why  in  the  h — 1  don't  you  drive  'em 
into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico?  "  an  Ohio  em 
ployee  of  one  of  the  big  insurance  com 
panies,  whose  office  building  towered 
above  the  speakers,  questioned,  hotly. 
"  We  burn  'em  out  up  in  our  country." 

"  What  in  the  d— 1  would  we  do  fer 
hands  on  the  farm?  "  the  "  hillbilly  "  re 
plied.  "But,  by  G — d,  it's  comin'  to 
that,  and  I'm  ready  to  start  it !  " 

"  Why  do  you  not  catch  them  and  let 
the  law  take  its  course?"  a  handsome, 
well-groomed  journalist  from  New  York 
asked. 

"  Ketch  'em !  My  God,  man,  you 
might  as  well  talk  o'  ketchin'  a  mite  on 
a  settin'  hen!  D — n  'em,  that's  what 
we  got  ag'in'  'em!"  the  "hillbilly" 
yelled.  "  They  hide  their  criminals!  " 

Mr.  Elliston  drew  out  his  notebook. 

186 


THE  RIOT. 

There  was  a  point  for  the  Modern 
Trend. 

"  What  I  hate  about  'em  is,"  the  Ohio 
man  continued,  "  they  ain't  people.  I'll 
be—" 

He  stopped  there,  for  they  heard  a 
different  noise — a  low,  moaning  sound 
as  of  distant  winds  muttering  in  the 
pines.  Then  above  it  came  a  sharp, 
shrill  cry. 

"  Second  assault  to-day!  Extra,  mis 
ter?  Here's  your  Evening  Press!  All 
about  the  second  assault !  " 

The  "  hillbilly  "  clinched  his  fists  and 
ran  forward  to  buy  his  paper. 

By  this  time  the  crowd  had  grown 
till,  upon  the  great  triangle  at  the  in 
tersection  of  Decatur  and  Peachtree 
Streets,  over  a  thousand  men  had  col 
lected.  A  premonition  of  impending 

187 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

evil  overshadowed  them.  There  was  a 
singular  quiet  on  all  sides,  as  if  the  nerv 
ous  tension  were  great.  As  the  dark 
ness  began  to  fall,  fathers  hastily  closed 
up  their  offices  and  hurried  homeward 
to  their  wives.  Anxious  women  looked 
out  of  the  windows  of  thousands  of 
homes  that  night  waiting  for  their  pro 
tectors  to  come.  With  never  so  much 
joy  before  did  the  girls  of  Atlanta  rush 
into  the  arms  of  their  fathers.  The 
shadow  of  unnamable  fear  was  upon 
every  home. 

So  the  streets  were  left  for  boys  and 
"  hillbillies  "  and  red  necks,  with  here 
and  there  a  responsible  man. 

188 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 

"Where's  the  police?"  the  country 
man  with  the  little  red  mustache  on  the 
end  of  his  nose  asked  of  a  young  hood 
lum  who  stood  by  him. 

"  Raidin'  the  dives  down  on  Decatur 
Street." 

"Listen  to  that!" 

Again  the  cry : 

"  Third  assault!    Paper,  mister?" 

"  By  Q — d,  there's  goin'  to  be  trouble 
here,  and  right  now,  at  that !  Come  on, 
boys,  let's  give  'em  h — 1 !  " 

"  I  just  heard  two  little  white  boys 
was  held  up  and  robbed  in  the  suburbs," 
the  hoodlum  answered. 

"And  look  a-yonder !  "  a  gamin  cried. 

191 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Did  you  see  that  nigger  grab  that 
white  woman's  pocketbook?  " 

"  Gee-muny-chrismus !  They're  fight- 
in*  !  "  he  yelled,  as  a  white  man  sprang 
on  the  negro  and  bore  him  down. 

Two  other  negroes  came  instantly  to 
the  aid  of  the  first,  and  a  rough-and- 
tumble  fight  ensued.  At  last  the  crowd 
became  noisy,  the  tension  began  to  give 
way,  the  lightning  flashed,  and  the 
storm  broke. 

And  above  the  tumult  could  be  heard 
the  shrill  cry  of  the  newsboy : 

"Fourth  assault!  Here's  the  Even 
ing  Press!  All  about  the  fourth  as 
sault!" 

Then  the  mob  formed.  To  the  first 
two  thousand  was  quickly  added  a  third, 
a  fourth,  a  fifth,  a  sixth,  a  seventh. 
The  night  had  come,  and  the  saloons 

192 


JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 

poured  out  their  drunken  revelers.  For 
some  it  was  a  game;  for  most  it  was 
the  long-delayed  revenge  against  the 
beast  from  whom  they  had  suffered. 
The  mob  was,  for  the  most  part,  formed 
of  the  under  class — the  whites  who  came 
in  most  intimate  contact  with  the  jungle 
men.  Added  to  these  were  the  irre- 
sponsibles — the  youth,  the  drunken,  the 
hoodlums.  But  here  and  there  among 
them,  and  ever  the  moving  spirits,  were 
men  whose  wives  were  alone  in  cottages 
on  the  by-streets  or  at  the  edge  of  dis 
tant  piny  woods.  And  the  burden  of 
their  cry  was : 

"  D — n  'em !  They  hide  their  crimi 
nals!  They  run  to  the  dens,  they  flee 
to  their  lairs,  and  are  lost  in  a  sea  of 
jungle  faces!  " 

Farther  back  in  the  distant  centuries 

193 

13 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

(and  not  so  far  but  that  it  may  be 
known  to  be)  there  was  the  forest 
where  the  white  man  dwelt  as  half  man, 
half  beast,  of  whom  to  this  present 
hour  there  are  none  so  tame,  so  cultured 
and  locked  up,  but  will  have  a  wild  trick 
of  his  ancestors.  To  these  all  who 
thronged  the  streets  of  the  great  city 
that  night  the  mob  demon  came.  He 
kindled  hate  in  their  breasts  and  mur 
der  in  their  hearts.  He  made  them  for 
get  the  difference  between  negro  men 
and  negro  wild  beasts,  between  those 
who  stood  willingly  as  near  the  White 
Circle  as  they  might  and  those  who 
chose  the  night  life  of  the  jungle.  To 
maim,  to  bruise,  to  curse,  to  kill !  This 
they  hastened  to  do. 

Yet  in  their  minds  there  was  a  jun 
gle   justice.     These   black   people — did 

194 


JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 

they  choose  to  stand  together,  to  hide 
their  woman  slayers?  Then  let  the 
punishment  be  measured  out  to  all. 
There  was  enough  to  go  around  to  the 
whole  race.  They  sheltered  the  wild 
beasts  in  their  dives  and  dens;  they 
were  participants  in  the  crime.  If  they 
would  sin  as  a  race,  let  them  so  suffer. 
That  was  the  rude  forest  philosophy  of 
the  first  white  mob  in  the  South  who 
went  out  to  murder  the  jungle  men. 

What  so  terrible  as  the  blue  eye  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  when  it  is  fairly  red 
with  anger,  no  matter  whether  that  eye 
rests  in  a  reeling  head  or  in  the  sockets 
of  hoodlums?  The  black  man  found  it 
so  that  night.  The  unreasoning  hate  of 
it  was  atavistic.  A  barber  shaving  a 
white  man  shot  down,  and  a  bootblack 
busy  at  an  Aryan's  foot;  a  negro  woman 

195 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

dragged  from  a  street  car  and  thrown 
through  a  shop  window  with  a  crash; 
Pullman  porters  mobbed  from  their 
near-by  cars — these  were  but  incidents 
that  marked  the  rising,  unreasoning 
fury  of  the  rioters. 

And  still  the  shrill  cry  of  the  news 
boys: 

"  Fourth  assault!  " 

The  "  hillbilly,"  whose  wife  was  alone 
in  the  little  cottage  by  the  edge  of  the 
piny  woods,  heard  it. 

"  Come  on,  boys,  let's  burn  'em  out!  " 
he  cried. 

Already  the  mob  was  as  well  armed 
as  the  hardware  stores  of  the  city  could 
arm  them.  Now  they  broke  into  others, 
and  added  the  pawnshops  and  dens  and 
dives  of  Decatur  Street  to  give  the  fire- 

196 


JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 

arms  wherewith  to  hunt  down  the  black 
man  as  well  as  black  beast. 

Then  the  awful  storm  burst.  No 
longer  was  there  any  discrimination  at 
all.  Beating,  killing,  wounding,  cursing 
— the  mob  went  wild.  Even  the  fire 
hose  could  scarce  dampen  more  than 
the  outskirts  of  it.  The  police  were  far 
away  down  on  Decatur  Street.  The 
military  could  not  be  called  out. 

The  passion  of  the  rioters  grew,  the 
blood  lust  increased.  They  overflowed 
into  the  near-by  streets,  hunting  for  the 
black  man,  eager  for  murder,  craving 
their  blood. 

Then  the  strange  thing  happened. 
Into  the  notorious  old  train  shed  rolled 
the  midnight  train  from  Dunvegan. 
From  it  an  aged  man  stepped  lightly, 
thinking  of  the  sermon  he  was  to  preach 

197 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

in  the  great  Eastminster  Church  on  the 
morrow.  Pleasant  were  his  memories 
of  this  eager  city,  upon  all  of  whose 
children  the  Eternal  Urge  was  placed — 
of  the  magnificent  church  which  had 
once  called  him  to  its  pastorate.  Of 
these  things  he  was  thinking  when  the 
noise  of  the  unfettered  storm  smote 
upon  his  ear. 

For  a  moment  he  was  bewildered. 

Then  at  his  feet  a  negro  fell. 

"  0  God!  "  the  man  yelled,  with  the 
fright  of  the  last  hour  in  his  words. 
"  Save  me,  boss,  save  me !  They're  kill- 
in'  the  niggers!  Save  me,  for  God's 
sake !  Save  me,  save  me !  " 

His  voice  rose  like  the  shriek  of  a 
soul  in  hell  whose  God  was  passing  him 
by. 

On  his  heels  followed  the  mob. 

198 


'He  stepped  upon  the  broad  back  of  the  negro  man  and 
beckoned  for  silence." 


JUNGLE  JUSTICE. 

"  Kill  him !  D— n  him,  kill  him !  He 
shelters  the  criminals  of  his  race! 
Shoot  him!" 

In  a  moment  the  aged  man  from  Dun- 
vegan  was  the  center  of  the  howling, 
bloodthirsty  mob.  The  negro,  already 
bloody  with  beating,  crouched  implor 
ingly  at  his  feet. 

Then  the  Dunvegan  minister  cast  his 
light  cloak  upon  the  kneeling  black  man 
and  whispered  to  him: 

"  Hold  yourself  steady;  I  must  stand 
on  your  back  to  speak  to  these  people. 
There!  On  your  hands  and  knees. 
Steady  now —  " 

Then  he  stepped  upon  the  broad  back 
of  the  negro  man  and  beckoned  for 
silence. 

The  mob  wavered.  Perhaps  it  was 
some  one  who  would  make  announce- 


199 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

ment  of  another  assault — perhaps  some 
news  of  importance.  Then,  too,  he  was 
a  gentleman  of  distinguished  mien,  and 
stood  unflinchingly  before  them  upon 
the  black  platform  he  had  made. 

Then  some  one  who  had  heard  and 
seen  him  before  in  the  great  Eastmin- 
ster  Church  shouted : 

"Hush!     It's  Dr.  Wilfong!  " 

200 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH. 

He  spoke  distinctly  and  with  com 
manding  clearness,  kindly,  as  if  he  un 
derstood.  They  had  not  listened  long 
before  they  knew  that  it  was  the  voice 
of  their  master  that  night.  The  calm 
look  of  the  man,  the  face  that  knew  no 
fear,  the  spirit  of  infinite  command 
about  him. 

Arthur  Elliston  stood  in  the^  mob, 
notebook  in  hand,  listening. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  some  one  asked  him. 

"  He  is  the  Old  South  come  to  life 
again !  "  Elliston  replied.  "  Hush,  and 
you  will  hear  something  worth  listening 
to." 

The  old  gentleman  spoke  from  the  ne- 

203 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

gro's  back.  He  also  loved  Atlanta,  even 
^the  careless  boyishness  of  the  city. 
Perhaps  that  superabundant  exuber 
ance  carried  them  sometimes  too  far 
and  their  enthusiasm  was  misdirected. 
With  a  smile  that  for  seventy  years  had 
won  men's  confidence,  he  told  them  that 
he  was  standing  on  the  back  of  a  ne 
gro  man,  just  as  white  men  in  the  South 
had  been  doing  since  the  first  Dutch 
ship  brought  the  black  folk  to  the  New 
World.  They  were  big  and  strong  and 
brawny,  yet  they  were  a  child  race,  and 
no  Southern  man  with  the  ancient  chiv 
alry  of  his  fathers  in  his  blood  would 
fail  to  protect  the  innocent  among  them. 
(Here  there  was  a  murmur  as  of  ap 
proval  that  ran  through  the  crowd.) 

"  In  my  younger  days,"  he  continued, 
"  when  I  went  as  pastor  to  the  manse  in 

204 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH. 

the  little  village  from  which  I  came  to 
night,  I  found  there  an  old  negro  man 
who  for  many  years  had  been  the  '  boy  ' 
for  my  predecessor  in  the  church. 
Some  days  later,  in  arranging  the  yards, 
I  had  occasion  to  plant  some  flowers, 
and  asked  the  elderly  negro  to  dig  up 
a  violet  bed  which  seemed  to  me  to  have 
been  planted  in  the  wrong  place.  The 
gray-haired  darky  looked  at  me  a  little 
strangely,  and  said :  '  Yes,  sir,  boss.'  A 
week  later  I  noticed  that  the  violet  bed 
was  still  there,  and  spoke  to  him  again, 
this  time  rather  sharply.  Again  the 
ancient  darky  said :  '  Yes,  sir,  boss/ 
But  when  another  week  passed  and  the 
violets  were  not  removed,  then  I  called 
the  old  man  to  me  and  told  him  that  if 
he  was  to  continue  in  my  service,  his 
first  lesson  was  to  be  that  of  obedience, 

205 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

and  asked  him  why  he  had  failed  twice 
to  do  my  bidding.  The  old  darky's  eyes 
filled  up  at  that,  and  he  said :  '  Boss, 
when  me  an*  my  marster  was  little  boys, 
befo'  dey  done  buy  dis  ole  house  from 
him  f  er  to  be  de  manse,  we  planted  dem 
violets  dere;  an',  boss,  I  jes'  done  been 
trying  but  I  can't,  boss — I  can't  dig  dem 
violets  up  what  we  planted  when  we 
was  boys.'  Then  I  laid  my  hands  upon 
the  old  darky's  shoulder  and  blessed 
him.  If  you  look  closely,  you  will  see 
three  violets  in  my  buttonhole;  they 
came  from  that  old  man's  violet  bed. 
And,  men — I  speak  to  you  as  Southrons 
— who  will  dig  up  the  beds  of  friendship 
our  fathers  and  theirs  planted  in  the 
times  before  the  war?  " 

The  pastor  of  Dunvegan  paused  there 
and  looked  about  him.    Men  were  turn- 

206 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH. 

ing  here  and  there  in  the  multitude  and 
taking  away  their  fellows  with  them. 
Little  by  little  the  mob  began  to  dis 
perse,  one  or  two  looking  mistily  at  their 
neighbors. 

Arthur  Elliston  stood  still,  watching 
the  crowds.  To  him  it  was  all  more  or 
less  a  revelation.  He  had  heard  of  the 
part  played  by  such  ministers  as  Dr. 
Wilfong  in  the  South;  but  it  did  not 
seem  possible  that  a  preacher  could 
really  lead  still  in  such  affairs,  much 
less  at  such  moments  as  this.  Here, 
then,  in  this  handsome  old  man  from  the 
village  church  was  a  power  to  be  reck 
oned  with.  That  was  the  way  he  made 
note  of  it  for  the  readers  of  the  Modern 
Trend.  As  he  was  writing  it  down,  the 
Ohio  man  came  up. 

207 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Say,  that  was  a  swell  talk  he  gave 
them,  wasn't  it?  "  he  commented. 

"  It  was,  indeed.  He's  just  about 
quelled  this  end  of  the  riot." 

"  Gee,  but  it  was  great  sport  running 
those  niggers !  "  a  new  voice  put  in. 
"  Sorry  the  old  man  came  along.  A  fel 
low  from  N'York  and  myself  chased 
one  over  the  country,  through  cotton 
patches,  brier  thickets,  and  I  don't  know 
what  else." 

"  Where  are  you  from?  "  the  journal 
ist  queried. 

"  Travel  out  of  Boston — born  in  Wor 
cester.  We  shot  at  him  more  than  a 
dozen  times,  but  he  got  away.  What's 
that  the  old  man's  saying  to  the  nig 
ger?  " 

Dr.  Wilfong  had  stepped  down  from 
his  improvised  platform  and  taken  his 

208 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOI;TH. 

wrap  from  off  the  back  of  the  black 
man  who  had  fled  to  him  for  protection. 
The  negro  had  risen,  and  stood  upon  his 
feet,  half  fearfully,  half  trustfully. 

"  You  had  a  very  narrow  escape,  my 
man.  A  little  more  and  they  would 
have  gotten  you.  I  think  you  are  safe 
now;  but  perhaps  you  had  best  go  along 
with  me.  I  am  to  stop  at  Dr.  Lawson's 
home  to-night.  You  might  guide  me 
there,  for  I  have  missed  the  carriage  in 
this  mob.  The  Doctor,  I  am  sure,  will 
let  you  stay  with  his  servants  to-night." 

The  negro  turned  ashy  pale. 

"  My  kind  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  will  guide 
you  there,  but  I — I  cannot— stay." 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  Come,  let  us 
hurry.  I  understand  the  Doctor  has  not 
quite  recovered  from  an  accident  that 

209 
14 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

befell  him  last  week.     Come,  we  must 
be  going." 

But  the  negro  stood  stock  still,  trem 
bling  from  head  to  foot. 

"Isn't— he— dead?"  he  almost 
shouted. 

"  Dead?  Why,  no,  he  isn't  dead. 
Dead  men  do  not  send  telegrams  as  he 
has  done  to  me  this  day.  He  was —  " 

"  0,  dear  God !  "  the  negro  cried. 
"Then  I  am  not  a  murderer!  I  shall 
not  be  a  jungle  man !  " 

"Your  name,  fellow?"  the  Doctor 
aked,  for  by  now  they  were  alone  on  the 
corner.  "And  why  do  you  act  so 
strangely  ?  " 

"  Sir,  my  name  is  '  Kongo  Copelin,' ' 
he  replied;  "and  I  am  the  man  who 
stabbed  Dr.  Lawson." 

As  he  spoke,  Dr.  Wilfong  felt  a  light 

210 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH. 

touch  on  his  arm,  and  turned  to  see  a 
well-groomed  white  man  standing  beside 
him. 

"  This  is  Dr.  Wilfong?  "  the  stranger 
asked.  "  Elliston  is  my  name.  I  am 
one  of  the  editors  of  the  Modern  Trend. 
I  should  like  very  much  to  see  you  for  a 
moment  to-morrow,  Doctor,  if  you  can 
find  the  time." 

"  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,  sir, 
on  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Dr.  Law- 
son  is  my  host —  " 

"  Then  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  op 
portunity  Monday  morning.  I  want  to 
glean  from  you  the  attitude  of  the  Best 
South  on  the  negro  problem" 

"  The  Best  South,  the  negro  prob 
lem,"  the  distinguished  old  man  mused, 
sadly.  "Ah,  sir,  what  is  the  negro 

problem?      Rakes      and      rum — white 
211 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

rakes,  white  men's  rum.  Some  talk  of 
the  danger  of  *  amalgamation/  as  if 
there  were  a  mulatto  in  the  South  whose 
father  was  not  a  white  man.  This  is 
the  negro  problem — white  lepers  that 
father  the  Third  Race,  and  white  liquor 
that  fathers  the  black  rapist;  and  for 
which  of  these  are  the  kindly  black  folk 
responsible?  But  I  shall  give  it  all  to 
you  Monday,"  he  added,  with  a  smile. 
"  To-morrow  I  give  to  God." 

212 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

Miss  Lawson  seemed  unusually  quiet, 
as  if  in  trouble,  while  the  motor  car 
sped  on ;  but  then,  unhaloed  by  sadness, 
what  face  is  perfectly  beautiful? 

"  What  an  odd  man  that  was !  "  she 
began.  "  Why  is  he  so  interested  in — 
in  them  ?  "  pointing  toward  the  driver 
ahead. 

"  He  is  an  editor,"  Keough  suggested, 
amused,  "  and  they  must  have  their 
'  problems/  " 

"  I  have  read  about  '  the  problem ' 
till  I  am  bewildered  by  it.  Yet  do  you 
know  I  sometimes  wonder,  despite  what 
I  said  to  him  a  moment  ago — I  wonder 

215 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

how  any  one  can  doubt  what  will  be  the 
final  outcome  of  it." 

"The  outcome?" 

"  I  was  reading  a  book  only  last  night. 
I  remember  rather  indistinctly  the 
prophecy  of  the  last  chapter.  'About 
the  two  hundredth  century  of  our  era/ 
it  said,  *  there  will  be  only  one  race  on 
earth — rather  small  in  stature,  light 
colored,  in  which  anthropologists  might 
perhaps  be  able  to  discern  indications 
of  English  and  Chinese  descent.'  " 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  we  will  never  per 
mit!" 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent,  while 
the  shadow  of  terror  swept  swiftly  over 
her  face. 

"Ah,"  she  at  length  replied,  "  what 
have  we  to  do  with  that  which  is  per 
mitted?  We  should  consult  our  gods 

216 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

and  our  ancient  monuments.  There 
were  Romans  once  who  despised  their 
slaves — now  the  Italian.  There  were 
Normans  once  who  despised  the  Engles 
— now  the  Englishmen.  There  were 
Teutons  once  who  despised  the  negro — 
now  the  eternal  now — there  are,  there 
will  be—  " 

She  paused,  gazing  at  him  wistfully. 

"  There  will  be?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  American  ?  "  she  inquired,  in 
turn. 

He  seemed  busy  with  his  thoughts. 

"  Silently — ah,  so  silently ! — and  un 
noticed,"  she  continued,  softly,  "  the  hu 
man  race  drives  forward  to  its  destiny, 
like  the  great  family  of  the  solar  sys 
tem  speeding  many  miles  per  second  to 
ward  its  goal  of  mystery  in  the  constel 
lation  Hercules." 

217 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  '  To  wash  a  black/  Geil  says,  '  is  to 
lose  one's  soap/  "  he  suggested,  grimly. 
"  But  what  shall  we  say  of  washing  the 
immoral  white  rakes  who  betray  black 
and  white  and  God  by  their  shameless 
seduction  of  the  black  women?  To 
cleanse  him  is  to  change  the  leopard's 
spots." 

"  Perhaps.  But  where  now  are  the 
Aryans  who  left  the  common  home  of 
their  race  and  passed  the  Hindu-Kush 
to  conquer  the  fertile  plains  of  India? 
Their  children  are  black  to-day.  They 
did  the  thing  no  race  can  do  and  live — 
they  left  their  isothermal  line.  It  was 
fifty  mean  in  his  Aryan  home;  it  was 
seventy  in  his  new  home.  The  sub- 
tropics  sapped  his  vitality,  and  he  was 
himself  overcome  by  the  negroid's  cli 
mate.  Only  his  religion  and  his  caste 

218 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

are  left.  We  whites  are  now  almost  in 
the  subtropics.  See  what  such  a  cli 
mate  did  to  the  fair-haired  Aryans  who 
chose  Greece  and  Italy  as  their  home !  " 

"And  there  were  the  Persians,  too," 
he  assented.  "  The  hot  plain  of  the 
Euphrates  did  the  same  for  them, 
but—  " 

"  There  was  ancient  Hellas,"  she  in 
terrupted — "  Hellas,  filled  with  deca 
dent  whites  in  a  climatically  foreign 
land.  The  Dorian  came,  revivifying 
the  race.  Then  the  age  of  Pericles; 
then  more  decadence.  Then  Greece, 
over  which  the  world  weeps  pityingly, 
remembering  her  former  honors.  Did 
not  Solomon  say :  '  The  thing  which 
hath  been  is  the  thing  which  shall  be? ' 
Men  may  learn  to  turn  back  the  flood 
in  its  madness,  to  train  the  storm  for 

219 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

service;  but  the  inexorable  law  of  cli 
mate  and  race — who  can  change  it,  save 
he  who  can  command  God  as  his  serv 
ant?  And  then,  also,  who  can  tell  what 
the  negro's  possibilities  are?  He  is  a 
young  race — yet." 

Eoy  Keough  listened.  All  this  he  had 
thought  out  long  ago. 

"  But  there  is  a  thing,"  he  answered, 
"  about  which  I  would  not  speak,  except 
to  one  who  could  understand  that  my 
motive  is  not  sinister.  You  have  no 
right  to  speak  of  the  negroid  as  a  young 
race.  It  is  of  them  all  the  oldest,  the 
first  to  flourish  and — to  grow  old.  It 
built  the  first  Babylon.  It  preceded  the 
Semite  in  the  valley  of  the  Euphrates, 
and  by  the  Ganges  grew  as  great  as  it 
could  before  the  Aryan  came  down  from 

the  hills  of  the  Hindu-Rush.     It  is  the 
220 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

oldest  of  all  the  races — first  in  birth  and 
first  in  death.  There  was  a  Mesozoic 
Age — you  learned  of  it  in  college — with 
its  reptiles,  hideous,  monstrous,  tre 
mendously  powerful.  There  also  was 
an  age  of  ferns  and  an  age  of  fishes. 
Each  has  passed,  as  has  passed  the  age 
of  the  black  race,  the  first  age — not  of 
iron,  silver,  or  gold,  but  of  wood.  In 
it  they  flowered  in  a  sort  of  crude,  gro 
tesque  civilization  till,  senescent,  the 
Semite  came  and  took  away  their  place 
by  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates,  and  the 
Brahmanic  Aryan  made  of  them  hewers 
of  wood  and  drawers  of  water." 

"  But  you  forget,"  she  interrupted, 
"  that  one  may  absorb  what  one  may 
not  create.  The  Japs  used  the  Ger 
man  cannon  to  the  best  purpose.  They 
say :  '  Look  at  the  civilization  around 

221 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

you;  make  it  yours,  follow  its  logic.     It 
will  give  youth  to  the  oldest  of  races.' ' 

"  If  it  were  only  a  possible  thing ! 
God  knows  I  have  prayed  for  it,  white 
man  though  I  am !  But  each  animal  has 
its  covering — the  bird,  feathers;  the 
fish,  scales;  the  cat,  fur;  the  dog,  hair. 
Each  race  has  its  civilization,  its  life. 
Any  adoption  of  it  by  a  widely  variant 
people  must  be  only  temporary.  There 
was  the  American  Indian,  the  Maori, 
the  Hawaiian.  To  these  the  Aryan's 
civilization  was  poison.  They  may 
smear  themselves  over  with  white  paint, 
but  they  will  never  think  the  world  in 
Aryan  categories.  Therein  lies  their 
infinite  hopelessness.  They  are  an  old 
folk  and  a  kindly  folk — and  a  trustful. 
Their  thoughts  have  form  and  color 

which  may  not  be  changed.     They  have 
222 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

come  down  through  the  ages  to  the 
twentieth  century.  So  has  the  kanga 
roo.  The  Maori  and  the  Dodo — they 
are  types.  There  were  Romans — once; 
there  were  Phenicians — once.  The 
mammoth  was.  So  some  day  they  shall 
say  of  the  negro :  '  He  was ! '  " 

"  It  was  thus  with  the  tree  fern,  the 
mastodon,  the  cave  bear/'  she  mur 
mured. 

"  But,  Laura,  dear,  what  unearthly 
affair  could  have  put  these  things,  these 
needless  worries,  in  your  mind?"  he 
asked. 

It  was  now  time. 

A  suspicious  moisture  came  into  her 
eyes,  the  while  she  muttered  to  her 
self  :  "  I  despise  to  do  it  this  way,  but 
there  is  no  other !  " 

She  leaned  forward  toward  him : 

223 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  0,  if  I  could  only  tell  you  some 
thing!  "  she  murmured,  slowly. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  those  wonder 
ful,  dark  eyes  cease  from  their  absorbed 
gaze  into  his.  A  deep  flush  was  creep 
ing  swiftly  into  her  cheeks.  He  could 
see  that  her  breath  was  coming  quickly, 
and  her  lips  quivered,  as  if  they  could 
scarcely  conquer  their  feelings. 

He  caught  her  hand  under  the  lap- 
robe. 

"  Laura,  you  are  in  trouble !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  softly,  his  heart  all  a-quiver. 
"  Tell  me,  darling ;  we  are  one  anoth 
er's." 

"  If  I  only  knew  that  you  loved  me  so 
much  that — that —  " 

"  That  is  just  a  little  part  of  how 
much  I  love  you,"  he  replied,  gently. 
"Tell  me  all!" 

224 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

"  You  know  the  girl — the  negroid 
woman — the  one  who  painted  that — 
horrid  picture  about  the—'  The  End?  '  " 
she  faltered. 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  her.  Mr.  Web 
ster—  " 

"  But  you — you  did  not,  you  could  not, 
know  that — she —  " 

Great  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  and 
she  turned  her  head  away  from  him. 

"  Laura,  dear  girl,  what  can  she  have 
done  to — ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no — not  that!  She,  she — is 
— my  sister!  " 

The  girl  shook  with  sobs  from  head 
to  foot. 

"  Laura,  Laura !  "  he  cried,  softly. 
"  Listen !  You  must  not  cry  so !  All 
men  make  mistakes.  Your  father —  " 

"  Hush !     Don't   mention   his   name ! 

225 
15 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

I  am  never  to  go  to  his  home  again.  I 
— upbraided  him — and — he  drove  me 
away  in  anger!  " 

He  was  silent  in  admiration  of  her 
courage. 

"  I  left  him — for — and  I  came  to 
you !  "  she  whispered,  tearfully. 

In  a  moment  her  head  was  on  his 
breast  and  his  trembling  arms  around 
her. 

"And  you  shall  never  leave,"  he  said, 
tenderly.  "You  are  mine — mine  for 
ever!" 

With  a  gentle  thudding  of  pistons,  the 
motor  car  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Oakdale,  Miss  Lawson,"  the  driver 
announced. 

In  the  distance  they  could  see  the  glow 
of  the  great  electric  headlight  of  No.  99 
as  it  trembled  and  shifted  upon  the 

226 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

clouds.  In  a  moment  the  brakes  of  the 
west-bound  limited  would  be  grinding 
out  their  brilliant  sparks  against  the 
grumbling  wheels. 

It  was  his  thought — 

"  Why  not?  "  he  whispered,  excitedly, 
pointing  to  the  light  in  the  sky. 

Her  eyes  seemed  afire  with  love  and 
joy. 

"  Come  on !  "  she  cried,  softly,  clasp 
ing  a  full  pocketbook.  "  We  will  go  to 
the  end  of  the  King's  Highway!  " 

"  I  will  get  the  tickets!  "  she  added, 
excitedly.  "  Luckily  I  have  my  purse." 

There  was  a  sweeping  shift  of  the 
electric  searchlight  as  the  train  rounded 
the  last  curve  and  the  great  engine 
pointed  its  eye  straight  toward  the  sta 
tion.  There  was  a  rumble  as  if  of 
Titan's  steps.  The  sparks  scintillated 

227 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

from  the  brakes.  The  porter  sprang, 
with  his  little  step  in  hand,  to  receive 
the  possible  passenger. 

"  Hello,  Keough !  "  the  conductor  ex 
claimed.  "You  here?" 

"  Why  not?  "  the  reporter  retorted. 
"  Perhaps  I  am  going  farther  than  this 
with  you." 

"  God,  man !  Haven't  you  heard  the 
news?" 

"News!     What  news?" 

"All  Atlanta  is  in  the  hands  of  a  howl 
ing  mob  of  murderers.  They're  killing 
negroes  by  the  hundred !  Four  assaults 
on  white  women  in  one  day!  The  pa 
pers  are  out  with  extras.  The  Com 
monwealth  is  leading  a  fight  for  sanity 
— troops  called  out.  You  are  the  last 
man  on  earth  I  would  have  expected  to 
find  running  away  from  duty !  " 

228 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY. 

Without  a  word,  his  face  white  with 
excitement,  Roy  Keough  rushed  to  the 
ticket  window. 

"  Stop,  Laura — Miss  Lawson !  We 
can't  go;  it  is  absolutely  impossible! 
Atlanta  is  in  the  hands  of  a  mob !  " 

"A  mob— Atlanta— "  she  faltered. 
"  But  I  have  bought  the  tickets." 

"  Then  they  must  be  returned.  Here 
quick,  agent!  It  is  but  the  matter  of 
a  few  days,  sweetheart,"  he  added. 
"  You  can  stay  at  the  hotel  until  the 
storm  is  over.  Then,  after  duty,  in 
finite  joy!" 

229 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  LAW  OF  THE  CAMP  FIRE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  LAW  OF  THE  CAMP  FIRE. 

The  lights  of  the  metropolis  came  in 
sight  again  as  the  motor  car  rounded  one 
of  the  foothills  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and 
soon,  even  above  the  regular  thudding  of 
the  cylinders,  they  seemed  to  hear  wild 
cries  in  the  night.  There  was  a  volley 
as  if  from  pistols  fired  in  concert,  and 
the  dull,  humming  voice  of  the  mob,  soft, 
purring  like  some  gigantic  feline,  some 
enormous  locomotive  steamed  till  its 
very  ligaments  vibrated — so  it  sounded 
in  the  distance. 

The  car  sped  on  while  they  both  trem 
bled — one,  with  eager  haste;  the  other, 
with  black  terror. 

As  they  whizzed  the  corner  into  Ely- 

233 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

sium  Street  they  came  full  speed  upon 
the  mob.  Lola  Lawson  fairly  screamed 
with  fright.  The  motor  swerved  un 
steadily  as  a  pistol  ball  whirred  past  the 
driver's  head,  and  Roy  Keough  stood  up 
in  the  car. 

"  Stop  the  motor  instantly,  Will!  "  he 
shouted.  "  Here,  take  this  lap  robe  I 
Crouch  down  there  on  the  floor!  Keep 
covered !  Quick !  " 

He  threw  the  robe  over  the  terrified 
boy  and  sprang  into  the  driver's  seat. 

The  mob  was  by  this  time  all  about 
them.  The  street  was  thronged  with 
rioters. 

Some  of  them  saw  the  woman  in  the 
motor  and  the  white  man  standing  on 
the  seat. 

"Where's    that    nigger    gone?"    a 

234 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  CAMP  FIRE. 

hoodlum  shouted.  "Kill  him,  boys! 
He's—  " 

Keough  understood.  The  mad  blood 
lust  was  in  these  people;  they  were  wild 
with  the  demon's  craving  for  victims. 

There  was  but  a  moment.  But  per 
haps  he  had  come  into  the  kingdom  for 
such  a  time  as  this. 

"  Listen,  men !  "  he  shouted.  "  What 
madness!  What  folly!  Avenging  the 
wrongs  of  our  women  upon  the  kindly, 
trustful,  genteel  negro  men  and  women ! 
Do  you  not  know  that  none  of  the  wild 
beasts  are  here?  Go  seek  them  in  their 
lairs.  And  listen!  If  you  would  burn 
our  laws  and  yourselves  be  the  aven 
gers;  if  by  mob  and  murder  you  would 
forever  prevent  the  recurrence  of  these 
awful  crimes,  go  seek  out  the  moral 
lepers  of  our  own  race  who  taught  them 

235 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

how.  Who  are  the  fathers  of  the  two 
million  Third-Race  people  in  this  coun 
try?  How  many  of  them  are  here?  " 

Some  of  the  nearest  of  the  rioters 
caught  the  drift  of  his  words.  After 
all,  it  was  they  whom  he  wished  to  reach. 

"  While  your  fathers  kept  lonely  vigil 
by  the  sad  camp  fires  of  the  sixties,"  he 
continued,  "  who  guarded  their  loved 
ones?  There  were  five  million  negro 
friends  of  yours  in  those  days,  your 
playmates —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  pressure 
of  the  outer  ring,  who  could  not  under 
stand  why  the  negro  was  not  already 
dead. 

"Aw,  say  now,  friend,"  a  "  hillbilly  " 
drawled,  "  weVe  got  enough  o'  that ! 
Hand  over  that  nigger!  He's  just  like 

236 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  CAMP  FIRE. 

'em   all;    he's    dangerous.     Better    kill 
him  and —  " 

"  Dangerous! "  Keough  retorted. 
"  I'll  tell  you  who  the  dangerous  men  in 
the  South  are,  no  matter  how  many 
there  be.  They  are  white  men — the 
lecherous,  libidinous,  incontinent,  moral 
lepers  who  seek  out  the  negro  women  to 
seduce  them.  It  is  as  if  a  father  be 
trayed  his  child,  as  if  a  guardian  led 
his  ward  astray.  These  black  people 
were  ours,  body  and  soul,  for  two  cen 
turies,  and  they  have  looked  to  us  for 
moral  law  for  a  half  century  since. 
What  ideal  have  we  set  before  them? 
We  have  allowed  the  offscourings  of 
our  race  to  set  them  an  example  of  de 
basement,  crime,  lascivious  rottenness. 
And  some  of  these  Aryan  lepers  have 
risen  from  their  licentious  beds  to  join 

237 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

decent  men  in  condemning  social  equal 
ity!  These  I  arraign.  They  are  the 
disturbers  of  our  peace  in  the  South. 
How  may  we  expect  honor  for  white 
women  when  white  men  leave  the  trail 
of  the  serpent  over — ?  " 

Thus  far  they  stood  it.     Then— 

"  Strike  him  down,  the  d — d  nigger 
lover!  Strike  him  down!  " 

"  Shut  up,  blatherskite!  "  Keough  re 
torted,  while  he  dodged  a  brick.  "  I  am 
a  man  lover  anywhere,  everywhere ;  and 
that  is  why  I  arraign  the  rottenness  of 
the  man  hater,  the  home  destroyer.  I 
want  us  to  teach  them  the  LAW  OF 
THE  WHITE  CIRCLE.  I  wani>-  " 

He  dodged  again  as  a  rock  came 
whirling  by. 

"  To  show  you — you  white  gods — the 
crime  of  letting  our  rakes  and  whips  and 

238 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  CAMP  FIRE. 

blacklegs  lead  negro  women — our  wards 
— down  into  the  demi-monde.  I —  " 

A  brick  struck  his  hat  and  carried  it 
whirling  off  into  the  air. 

He  stood  there  then,  the  clean,  pure 
Teuton,  a  gentleman,  unafraid,  his  light 
hair  fanned  gently  by  the  soft  breezes 
from  the  Blue  Ridge.  Lola  Lawson 
looked  on  him.  God!  For  the  love  of 
such  a  man  what  would  she  not  do? 

"  They  come,"  Keough  shouted  again, 
as  the  mob  urged  themselves  on  upward 
into  the  car — "  they  come  from  a  land 
where  virtue  was  a  garment  to  be  put 
on  or  off  at  pleasure,  where  an  ad  in 
terim  wife  was  provided  for  every  guest 
as  part  of  his  hospitality.  Do  you  won 
der,  then,  how  rapidly  they  learn  of  our 
blacklegs?" 

"  Kill  him,  too !  "  a  new  voice  shouted. 

239 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  D — n  him — the  hypocrite !  He's  got 
old  Sallie  Johnson's  gal  there  with  him 
now! " 

Keough's  eyes  were  on  fire  with  an 
ger. 

"  Liar ! "  he  cried.  "  How  dare 
you?" 

"  Liar  I  may  be  sometimes,"  the  fel 
low  replied,  grinning  assuredly,  "  but  I 
ain't  no  liar  now!  Take  off  that  veil, 
Lola  Johnson !  " 

A  rough  hand  was  raised  to  fit  the 
deed  to  the  word. 

Keough  struck  out  at  the  man,  but  the 
blow  fell  short.  A  rock  hit  him  in  the 
temple,  and  he  sank,  reeling,  to  the  floor 
of  the  car. 

240 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Lola,"  the  voice  said,  "  you  are  my 
promised  wife,  no  matter  if  you  were  to 
be  married  to  this  Aryan.  Such  a  mar 
riage  is  illegal  through  all  the  South,  as 
you  know  by  your  own  confession  in 
the  South  you  would  have  to  be  married. 
Come,  I  beg—  " 

"  Kongo,  why  do  you  not  listen  to 
me?  "  a  woman's  voice  answered,  quiet 
ly,  but  with  a  word  of  suppressed  feel 
ing.  "  I  have  told  you  to  go  away. 
Now  I  order  it!  What  if  he  should 
wake  and  find  me  talking  to  one  of  the 
black  folk?  Go!" 

"  He  will  find  it  all  out  in  God's  good 
time,  Lola,"  the  man  protested.  "  You 

243 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

cannot  masquerade  as  Laura  Lawson 
forever.  There  are  scores  of  negroes 
who  know  you  in  this  city  who  will  flee 
everywhere  from  Atlanta  after  this  riot. 
Your  resemblance  to  her  deceived  him, 
and  your  genius  planned  this  awful 
thing  you  have  almost  done.  You —  " 

"What  did  you  call  it,  Kongo? 
Why—  " 

"  I  called  it*  '  awful/  but  the  laws 
would  call  it — 'adultery!'  Am  I  not 
the  more  considerate?  " 

"How  dare  you?"  she  shrieked. 
"Hush!  Go!" 

Without  a  word  the  black  man  turned 
upon  his  heels  and  vanished  into  the 
night. 

Keough  roused  slowly  from  his  stu 
por.  The  words  kept  repeating  them 
selves  in  his  ears.  The  negro  man,  all 

244 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

bruised  and  battered — what  was  it  he 
had  said?  This  woman,  bending  over 
him  as  he  lay  upon  the  pavement — those 
beautiful  eyes — that — 

"My  promised  wife!"  Ah,  those 
were  the  words !  "  Lola,"  that  was  the 
name.  But  this  woman's  was  the  face 
he  loved — Laura  Lawson,  of  Atlanta. 

"  He  will  find  it  all  out  in  God's  good 
time,  Lola."  The  negro  man  had  looked 
down  at  him  when  he  uttered  the  words. 
What  did  it  all  mean,  anyway?  Why 
was  he  so  wet  and  the  girl  all  drenched 
there,  so  that  her  very  skirts  clung  to 
her  ?  At  that  he  closed  his  eyes  again. 

"  It  was  a  lucky  thing  the  fire  depart 
ment  turned  the  hose  on  the  mob,"  she 
muttered  to  herself,  "  else  we  had  all 
been  killed." 

245 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

There  was  a  pistol  shot  in  the  dis 
tance. 

Ah,  he  had  it — the  riot ! 

He  sat  bolt  upright.  The  woman 
leaned  forward  and  touched  his  fore 
head  again  with  a  cold,  wet  handker 
chief. 

Laura — Lola?  He  was  wide-awake 
now,  and  the  negro  man's  words  were 
plain. 

For  a  moment  then  Roy  Keough  sat 
statue-still,  while  the  facts — the  awful, 
deathly  facts — gripped  at  the  throat  of 
his  soul.  In  the  agony  of  it  his  tongue 
parched  and  his  jaws  gripped,  as  if 
there  could  never  be  need  of  words 
again. 

"  Laura,"  he  whispered,  hoarsely — 
"Lola,  what  does  it  mean?  Why 
did—" 

246 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"Laura— Lola?"  Had  she  heard 
aright? 

In  a  moment  the  woman  bent  over 
him  and  was  touching  his  forehead 
lightly,  as  if  it  were  a  pain  that  coulcl 
be  rubbed  away.  Even  in  his  moment 
of  anguish  her  beautiful  shape  and  lis 
som  grace  tugged  at  his  heart. 

"  My  sweetheart,"  she  began,  sooth 
ingly. 

"  Hush,  Laura — Lola !  "  he  answered. 
"  I  know  it  all!" 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  to 
read  her  fate.  Would  he  reproach  her 
bitterly?  Would  he  do  as  he  said  he 
would  once — take  his  revolver  and  blow 
his  brains  out? 

"And  yet  I  am  the  same,"  she  mur 
mured,  softly.  "  I  did  it  because  I  loved 

247 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

you  so.  I  am  the  same  woman  you  have 
loved." 

He  was  silent,  while  the  great  tears 
sprang  again  to  his  eyes. 

"  It  was  my  law,  my  god,  who  bade 
me  do  it,"  she  continued,  gently.  "  It 
was  because  my  soul  yearned  for  you 
so,  and  the — dream — of — you — was — so 
—beautiful!" 

He  arose  and  stood  before  her. 

"  That  was  why  I  did  it,"  she  said 
once  more.  "  I  wanted  you  till  my 
heart  ached." 

"Lola,"  he  began,  "listen.  I  can't 
say  much;  for  if  I  do,  my  feelings  will 
run  away  with  my — sense.  I  love  you ; 
but  I  am  something  more  than  myself. 
I  am  a  member  of  the  White  Circle.  Its 
law  is  upon  me." 

Keough  was  awake  now  in  earnest. 

248 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

The  woman  looked  at  him.  This 
thing  had  come  then  at  last,  the  thing 
whose  shadow  had  long  threatened  and 
now  cursed  her  as  a  real  thing  of  evil. 
All  that  he  had  said  she  understood.  To 
her  there  was  no  insult  in  it,  only  bit 
ter  pathos  and  unrelenting  Nemesis. 
She,  the  white  woman  who  had  planned 
and  striven  to  redeem  herself,  the  black 
woman  told  herself  that  he  was  right. 
That  which  had  excluded  Kongo  Cope- 
lin  from  her  life  she  felt  and  understood. 
To  her  it  was  only  an  instinctive  disgust 
at  contact  with  the  jungle  people ;  to  this 
white  man  it  was  the  beetling  menace 
of  the  black  flood.  So  she  could  under 
stand  her  case,  but  accept  it — never ! 

"  You  are  sitting  on  a  glacier,  Roy 
Keough,"  she  exclaimed,  "gripping 
yourself  tightly  and  swearing  you  shall 

249 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

not  move ;  but  all  the  time  the  icy  mass 
is  moving  on — on — on.  Individuals  can 
not  stay  the  end" 

Yet,  as  she  said  it,  she  loved  him  for 
what  he  was  doing,  and  knew  that,  for 
good  or  bad,  he  held  her  soul  eternally. 
For  a  moment  the  mad  joy  which  had 
been  hers  but  a  few  hours  before  swept 
over  her  again,  and  her  will  refused  to 
let  him  go. 

"  0,  darling,  Roy,  sweetheart,  master, 
don't  leave  me!  For  God's  sake  take 
me — keep  me!  I  am — yours;  do  with 
me  as  you  will!  " 

She  flung  herself  upon  his  neck  and 
sobbed  it  out  on  his  shoulders. 

Gently,  tenderly,  he  unlocked  her 
hands  from  about  him,  for  the  wild 
abandon  of  her  love  was  tugging  at  his 
heart. 

250 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

"  Lola,  you  forget  the  great  gulf —  " 

"Gulf!"  she  cried,  madly.  "There 
is  no  gulf  too  great  for  love !  " 

Again  he  disentwined  her  embraces. 

"  It  is  the  Law  of  the  White  Circle,'' 
he  murmured.  "  I  dare  not!  " 

The  woman  stood  up  before  him  as 
she  heard  the  words. 

"  Roy,"  she  said,  the  shadow  of  an  un 
expected  hope  lighting  her  face  for  the 
moment,  "  take  me.  What  does  it  mat 
ter  about  the  marriage?  Only  love  me 
— 0,  God ! — you  must,  you  shall !  " 

For  a  moment  the  great  temptation 
was  full  upon  him.  Those  wonderful 
eyes;  those  delicately  penciled  features; 
her  form  of  soft,  symmetrical  fullness, 
with  its  invitation  of  infinite  pleading. 
Ah,  again  those  eyes  which  seemed  able 
to  hold  all  others  until  they  were  done 

251 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

with  them !  He  had  craved  all  this,  and 
the  exquisite  rapture  of  it  thralled  him. 

The  woman  took  a  step  toward  him, 
her  hands  touched  his  arms,  her  black 
curls  were  over  his  cheeks. 

"  Come,"  she  whispered — "  you  love 
me.  What  matters  it  about  the  customs 
men  have  of  marriage?  Come!  " 

Then  the  Teuton  spoke.  He  saw  him 
self — Roy  Keough,  child  of  vision — the 
sire  of  a  race  of  phallic  fathers  and  un 
chaste  mothers. 

"  Hush,  girl !  "  he  commanded.  "  Do 
you  not  see  that  in  you  the  crime  they 
stoned  me  for  telling  them  of  is  beck 
oning  me  also?  Have  not  our  white 
Lawsons  wronged  your  race  enough  al 
ready?  Would  you  have  me,  who  am  a 
teacher  of  my  people — ?  " 

Then   he   pitied   her,    for    her   sobs 

252 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WHITE  CIRCLE. 

touched  his  heart.  She,  too,  saw  how 
the  lecherous  father  and  the  abandoned 
mother  had  spoken  in  their  child. 

"  Go  back  to  your  people/*  he  added, 
gently.  "  Is  there  none  among  them 
whom  you  may  love?  " 

THE  END. 
253 


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Jacobs,  T.  A416 

The  law  of  the          L3 
white  circle. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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